The negative, the plastic world has become an expression.
We all leaving the state of the present,
despite the substance of the reality
shows us the oxygen of this work.
But the poetry fluctuates and inspires,
it makes to dream the evidence, spontaneous.
And the improbable reshapes the land,
shouting in the air the uproar of the scratch.
The groove is all silent. All that dance is
because every amused smile hides the truth,
and the absent shadow now draws the loneliness.
Ignoring the twilight.
No space, no time, no storm.
The inexorable writing of things is a mixture
of the bright white that counteracts the reshness
of those who regularly drowns the desire to run away.
It almost seems a desire waiting for a return,
words written by a melancholic embrace,
invisible to the world.
And the tissue dance in this infinite trace,
perturbing the air of a silence that permeates the paper,
surrounding yourself of that beloved tobacco
confined by now in the time of a bag.
Do You feel now the breath before shooting?
Extrait 100 ml