“… the river sliding along its banks, darker now than the sky descending a last time to scatter its diamonds into these black waters that contain the day that passed, the night to come. — Excerpt from the poem “The Mercy”

“in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems”

“A night of exhilaration, of boredom and terror, in which the merest of sounds took on other forms - grew large in the expanse of darkness. After several hours the sheep gradually stopped calling to each other from accross the river banks, and a brittle quiet descended. I desperately wanted to walk down to the water's edge. To see the black river in the moonlight. But a mixture of reason and fear kept me locked along the safe paths high above.”

“In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.”

“There is no darkness like that of a confined space. It's darker than the inside of eyelids, and darker than the night.”

“Some days he walked along the banks of the river that smelled of shit and pesticides bought with World Bank loans.”