My favorite flowers are the ones that grow between the small cracks in the concrete.
In them I contemplate myself: I deserve to take space.
Our fissures reveal
the right to ask
nature and life at the core of necessity.

To my wild child I howl:
You're not in the way, my beautiful little penguin.
You're not a beggar.
You're not a burden.
You are not to spare.

You are a river, and the channel is yours to overflow.
Who told you you were too much?
Only inexhaustible.