• My heart born naked was swaddled in lullabies. Later alone it wore poems for clothes. Like a shirt I carried on my back the poetry I had read. So I lived for half a century until wordlessly we met. From my shirt on the back of the chair I learn tonight how many years of learning by heart I waited for you.

    John Berger (2014). “And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos”, p.27, Bloomsbury Publishing