Mens undiesMen's undies are private Disneyland, offering big attractions between candies and toffee apples. Always warm and comfort inside, but from time to time there is a ray of light, revealing new adventures and exciting discoveries. After intense emotions it's time to close for a moment; sometimes there are even holidays, near the beach, feeling marine breeze. What a pleasure it is! I'd like to be a pubic hair
ReflectionsThis love is an extended metaphor, perhaps claiming that a bumblebee is a cumulus cloud (or, indeed, the other way round) —both too heavy to hang as they do in the sky, great weights oblivious to gravity, and with an air of steady certainty that they are keeping the world ticking over, a self-assured busyness from which we must forever be distant. &nbs
Vine-tree Life IILife is a dying vine in a land of harshness. Is an amorphous anfractuous tree, that conceals the suffering of the soul with it's big dead leafs. At every minute that it dies, with it's strangler crooked branches, squeezes and suffocates parts of my being, in slow-motion moves, taunting me at my every step through this damned land. It's a vine, with its dead empty trunk still standing, with painful detailed bark of no importance, showing my every decision in its old wrinkles. It intertwines around me, holding me with sadness while crushing my hope without a shred of honesty, always unveiled after the thin membrane of moss, i
sun is the ultimate painterThe sun is the ultimate painter. It saturates all colours, enhances the edges of all leaves; their edges stand defined in midday brightness. When it's behind a cloud, the colour slips, and leaves meld together. Then there's dark and light, more dark than light, 'till the sun stops painting and the dark consumes. When my world is dark I am dark, I become a dark thing. I cannot survive without the painter, without light, colour, and defined edges; I need art to survive.
