He carried, Ritro, his eyes, between his hair, on the flat part of his skull

domingo, mayo 29, 2022

 He carried, Ritro, his eyes, between his hair, on the flat part of his skull. In the room of whispers. Rolling they go out. Slowly the wine. We both stood silent in the center of the silence. Outside, the old wooden door revealed its medium-sized squares of glass damaged by the habit of dust. With the mouth in the form of an agenda ready to go out at any time. He was dazzled by the blind gaze. As if his shoes were always part of his feet.

Autobiographies. Write en miroir. Palimpseste sur painting. Mirror Sub-Irrealism. Random intratextuality.

You Might Also Like

0 comments

Compartir en Instagram

Popular Posts

Like us on Facebook

Flickr Images