“winter palette"Winter leans inwith a painter’s restraint,lifting soft bluesfrom the frost’s first breath,letting tree‑shadows sketchsilver across the ground.Branches rise like quiet script,each stroke a reminderthat pared‑back beautyasks only to be seen..

dreadful need in the crevices of the soul, cravewith an ache so great as to make me bleedMidnight approaches and brings with him shadows that covetamong the faces I see youpeering deeply into my eyesconnecting with the witch withinVulnerability...

I had always heard, mainly from my two older brothers, that one should never get married. Be a player and own your freedom. These words echo still as I have no children and no ex-wife—my own life and liberty....

After a long conversationWhere we could understand each otherI thought to myselfIt is niceI can connectThen a shade of pleasure passed over my face.