And that's how it's done.
Make sure I'm talking and not talking.
It's the case.
Remember, for many lives, many places.
Even the days without the moon, even the polar circles, even the evening mist, at the end of winter, in the ice palaces, in the hotel passes, in the streets of Damascus, the night is never dark.
There is always a spark, someone who lights a candle, a sound that revives the flame, even under the veil of women.
There is always firmly the clear dream of a child, a gesture, a look, a guitar, the night is never dark.
In the deep forests, the sky has a crazy fire, in the depths of the favelas, a shot of lightning, a shot of lightning, while everything seems lost, slowly our eyes get used to it, in front of us a lighthouse stands up, the night is never dark.
Even the days without the moon, even the polar circles, even the evening mist, there is light.
There is always a spark, someone who lights a candle, a sound that revives the flame, even under the veil of women.