I could walk through the night for hours; it lied peacefully in my heart. I could smell its beauty, taste its wonderful scent; I could feel it in its wholeness. At times my thoughts would stray, and I’d start thinking, wouldn’t it be great to be a vampire, a creature of the night, one that truly appreciates nights’ beauty? But, does he really have a choice? Can he choose the world he wants to live in? The empty streets, the peaceful darkness, the gloomy yellow streetlights, the time of sleep; when everyone can truly be who he wants to be?

Who am I? I hate this question. When you meet someone new, and you start being interrogated, as if you were a criminal. What if I told you I didn’t know? What if I told I had no story to tell? Would you be disappointed? I’m sorry, but I don’t dream, I don’t make up stories, I live reality. A reality that doesn’t exist.

I’m a musician, and my instrument is time. I’m a poet, and my words pray silence.