Each one weaves its own nests with the threads of its own life.
Threads with which we knitt our nests
in a transparent way
allowing to see through
what we want, what we have said and done.
A material record with personal form
as an uncertain but sustaining armor.
A continuous and endless suspense.
There are threads that become chains
and nests that become caves.
But there are threads of light and certainty
that give us peace
that hold us strong.
There are softer threads than happiness
and stronger than absence.
Without these threads, my God,
Who would dare to make a nest?