• I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gushes poetry.

    Marina Tsvetaeva (2011). “Bride of Ice: New Selected Poems”, p.142, Carcanet