Listen, my child, to the silence
The undulating silence
where valleys and echoes slip,
bending foreheads
to the ground.
Listen.
~ Frederico Garcia Lorca
Not knowing when the Dawn will come,
I open every Door.
I open every Door.
Listen, my child, to the silence
The undulating silence
where valleys and echoes slip,
bending foreheads
to the ground.
Listen.