Membra Jesu Nostri

Our memories are now fables since the
contact of our bodies has been interrupted. Our memories are fables that we never lived, together. Like yesterday I seek a little comfort in the warm wind of the Libeccio, but slaps I receive
not caresses, cold blades of Tramontana cut the skin and I see my hands cracking like crust of black bread and around an icy sky, a sick sun: our
memories are fables, memories-fables.