I have spent so many years trying to be silent. To not speak of the sensual and to let be still all those ghosts that long for silence within my heart. I have no more room in my heart for propaganda. There go two beats, pushing blood, pulling me along down the road. One foot I place in front of the other, mesmerized. I see my body being covered by moles. I am watching the white chickens eating their feed. I sit and watch them for hours. Could we become one?