我们
The more we try to control the world, the more it slips through our fingers.
Language is the only homeland we truly possess.
The dead speak through us, in our dreams, in our words.
The border between dream and reality is thinner than we think.
We are all translators of our own experiences, turning the raw into the meaningful.
The past is not fixed; it shifts with our retelling.
Every journey is a search for the self, even when we think we are running away.
Reality is not something we perceive, but something we create with our stories.
We are all fragments, not only of ourselves but of each other.
The real is always more than we can say.
The world is a dream we share.
The world is a language we have forgotten how to speak.
The world is a story we tell ourselves.
The world is full of signs, but we have forgotten how to read them.
Poetry is the medium through which we confront our own solitude.
We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.
The books we read are as important as the friends we keep.
The stories we tell about ourselves are as important as the lives we lead.
History is not the past. It is the present. We carry our history with us.
We tell stories to live, and we live to tell stories.