Be bold, my dear. The things you hear are true, and they are not, at the same time.
Be bold to hear them still in an everlasting noise of streets and bodies and red and green and dark lights.
Be bold, my child. You hear, listen. They are there, caressing your heart. The lower part, that one, that has been forgotten.
Be bold, you’ve done so well. I’m proud of you. So many lives of desert walks and water floods. May our eyelashes touch each other. We see each other.
Be bold, my dear. You’ve come so far. I’m here.