



old soul new place
restless i stir... sometimes losing oneself is the only way to gain direction.

Little Star…
“and where warmth and sadness meets, my sore eyes settle, true beauty never ask, only speaks, twisting and shouting, moving from the heart, carrying my breath away every night, waxing never waning”

poetry is best lived in
“let your mind run wild, fall into the absurdity, cultivate that dream, hold it, nourish it, step by step grow it…”






