...we are buds waiting for the fifth season on the branches of sentences that begin with "despite" that extend towards love.
We neither dissolve in the crimson of dawn nor disappear in the darkness of night.
Our job is to mend the uprooted shadows, to feed anthills with syrup and to hide those innocent smiles of children that grow roses in their dimples from the cruelty of time.
Does it matter who we are?
Will our names and bodies not be erased from worldly exile one day?
We consider every hardship a blessing and are the men of the word "trouble" that we say at the right time.
We are the secret subjects of every verse in these pages that touches your heartstrings and awakens sparks in your perception.