I sharpen my memory so as not to speak. While nightingales sequel sandbank and song. I gave you my hand. Long hair to wrap around the body. Pulling you from deep misfortunes, trampled by false rhinos. May your body break down to get out of there. For there are still sweets in the sea. Your son's place is among the flowers of the castle. Mothers and grandparents usually count the hours. August is the month of lies. I want to give you joy. Tying clothes on the clothesline. In your womb. Silences scream. I lacked sweetness. Dry leaves do not catch fire.