My skin knows no light and I can see cold bars and prisons for our walls. Here, in this cold world, you cannot see my coffee-filled trees; my coffee and my words, but when we go back to our depths, we will find the bright fragrance. I remember my sorrows because they filled me with warmth in this cold world. I remember the face of the lake and the geese, and I remember all that to **** this foreignness and this coolness in this big prison. I am not a prisoner in the rubble; I am just a free bird with a wet heart capable of love in this lonely life.