A friendly whale
crosses the waters.




We knew it was not easy
wearing yesterday's misfortunes
like a smile.
But he is smiling
now.




My son and I
sit on the shore all day long,
no memory of the past.





The form of this last picture
is fundamental, conjugal,
conjugated, joined.




It makes no statements.
It simply exists.




Love, you know,
is happiness.
And happiness is childhood.
And childhood is poetry.




My son is me.




And I am my son.




No pain.




This new world has
no sin.