Book: The cavalry

... All the death. Eternal life is destined only mother. And when mother is dead, she leaves a memory that no one has yet dared to desecrate. The memory of the mother nourishes in us a compassion, like an ocean, boundless ocean, feeding the river, cutting the universe...

It hangs in front of us faded canvas of silence and hostility.

The evening wrapped me in life-giving moisture of its twilight sheets, evening maternity put palms to my burning forehead.

Let's just say, he's sick, angry, drunk from boredom, he wants the sun of Italy and bananas.

Steaming on the table Brokeback candle - the ominous fire of dreamers. I sat to the side, dozing, dreams jumped around me like kittens.

In the closed eye is not part of the sun...