“ I carry inside myself my earlier faces, as a tree contains its rings. ”
In the middle of life, death comesto take your measurements. The visitis forgotten and life goes on. But the suitis being sewn on the sly.
~ Tomas Tranströmer
It is still beautiful to hear the heart beatbut often the shadow seems more real than the body.
I wrote so meagerly to you. But what I couldn't write swelled and swelled like an old-fashioned airship and drifted away at last through the night sky.
Death stoops over me.I'm a problem in chess. Hehas the solution.
