Little boy of seven
running down the street, smiling.
His clothes are torn. 


Under the Indian Summer
even the Iguanas
cry for mercy. 


And at night
the weary priest
hangs his heavy shroud on his bedroom door. 


Young girls with flowers in hand
running along the shore
chasing shadows. 


The cat
after the rain
leaves her footprints all over the verandah.



After the bedtime stories
children go to sleep
and dream of monsters. 


The sad fog slithers off slowly
leaving the mountain
a sparkling green. 


In the morning light
the lake shimmered with
a supernatural gleam. 


Magma sunset —
the boy, smoking his first cigarette,
contemplates life. 


After the cinema —
couples in cars
exploring territories.