The “absurd” and “death” intertwine and disappear with the “no” language, it is the end, the word dies, language is destroyed, without either of them, we are no longer.

At times I think and wonder, why do I write, who could be interested or benefit from what I put on paper? Nevertheless, when I do it, it’s like repeating a rite that gives me immeasurable satisfaction.

“I am the only reader of my books who knows exactly what the writer really meant to write”.