Amazon to the moon, positions are weightless.
Possible relocation to existential hiatus. Someone sent me a
Sax for the year. A sixty kilometers from my village. A whole world to me. From the windows of the institute is the cemetery. Sometimes, while students disturb me quede looking tombs minutes and minutes. They are so close that I think that if it were not for my fourteen diopters would be able to read the names of the tombstones. Tomorrow
begin to look flat. Die without internet and without Heart of the City.
Pig Misery. With admirable unconsciousness
0 comments:
Post a Comment