I, a woman-poet, on the road of darkness, the endless road of the text, follow the sound of inspiration outside of my insides like Paridegi who roams the Buddhist Elysium. I break and break apart the darkness I have entered. This is how I can leave here and return to the place I had left. Each gap along my walk, each valley gets filled with me. I always sink into the hollow spaces of the fractured text. I gush out from the hollow and get dispersed with other things that have also gushed out from the hollow. The dispersed thing breaks once again. This doesn’t mean that the text of my body, the text of my language is prophetic or mysterious. If it were mysterious, I could never do the work of fracturing the space of the real.