walking


His handsHis restless hands when touched the black the white told stories of loss and stories of joyHis hands
that quenched my passion-thirsty soul so that
I walked into the empty hall and sat upon the floor eager for more
But it was not until then, on ten, when he hit the second line and stomped his shoe against the old oak boards so that the dust rose off the stage and sparkled in the dim, hot light
majestic in an eerie way and yet so whole
It was only then, on ten when his fingers flew like blue jays in their summer song that I knew.


Le chant de l'eteLe chant de l'été au crépuscule s'est tu le souffle angoissé du nord-est a fait battre les drisses et les haubans sifflent, mélancoliques, lancinante plainte qui sonne et résonneLe chant de l'ete
un phare oscille a l'horizon une croix blanche guidant les marins vers les ports du rivage
la, des femmes attendent, aux lueurs de bougies leurs sommeils turbulents, ces cambrures de détresse des cruches de vin, vidées et remplies pour ces levres aux désirs qui se noient en l'ivresse
leurs regards errant sur les eaux, vagabonds, ch
Rue
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"Hey you, with you ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?"
- Roger Waters
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the one that is hated from the masses
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Bruno Pantone Art Photography
RedLight Studio
i love your b&w*
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true love lives on lollipops and crisps *
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Bombing for Peace is like Fucking for Virginity.
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