This tingling flower heart, this feeling of the needles unfold in reverse, convulsive thrill of so much hope and expectation ... content, long and cold, surly and haughty. You do
can not trample me she said I am the ferryman, the inevitable.
I'm playing with the material and hope for a acceleration of particles, nothing happens, nothing happens, everything stagnates.
This vacuum that separates me from my near future or conditional conjugate was filled alternately with blue sky hypothetical, interrogative white and dark past images earlier.
transit area, terminal and silent desert ... Some days, centuries.
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