Here we are, naked lovers, beautiful to each other—and that's enough. The leaves of our eyelids our only covers, we're lying amidst deep night. - Wisława Szymborska

The world — whatever we might think when terrified by its vastness and our own impotence, or embittered by its indifference to individual suffering, of people, animals, and perhaps even plants, for why are we so sure that plants feel no pain; whatever we might think of its expanses pierced by the rays of stars surrounded by planets we've just begun to discover, planets already dead? still dead? we just don't know; whatever we might think of this measureless theater to which we've got reserved tickets, but tickets whose lifespan is laughably short, bounded as it is by two arbitrary dates; whatever else we might think of this world — it is astonishing.

A vida dura o tempo de umas marcas de garra na areia.

Our times are still not safe and sane enough
for faces to show ordinary sorrow.