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The worst prison is not the one with walls and bars, but the one in our minds.
We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.
Art doesn’t have to be serious to be meaningful.
每个清晨,我从床上跳下来,然后就踩上了地雷。那个地雷就是我自己。在爆炸之后,我把那一天剩下来的时间用来把炸烂后的碎片收拾到一起。