dedicated to the memmory of 642 2643568
cold as the glass of the closing sliding doors of an airport...
cold as the knowledge that u'll be gon by the end of the escape...
cold as the emptyness that i'm living...
departure
nothing but silence...
and empty coldness...
50 herz of the bipolarity found in alternating current (swinging moods- on the see-saw of emotions » It doesn't hurt if it's not love, and it's not love if it's not electric... this makes Nikola tesla Don Juan«
danaja
after every high (past exhibition) there comes a low... and that's what scares me.
"flowers in the fall" botticelli's spring in orange
memorries of my child hood (memorries from fucked up childhoods... aren't they my dear (like saying tnx to mumford and his son)
the pencil (that's how he saw art, that's how he saw our art, as life made a writter your own thoughts... long hair as presheren -he used to joke about it-... and slowly took your voice away... and it slowly took your life mr. imagineer
health insurance (never mental)
Tnx for the box... i guess u never knew u gave me a present...
the scent of apples (i guess it'll make you more happy than me...)
meds: "baby did u forget to take your meds placebo
her
a bounch of news and reading glasses
insurance for the night of the white silence (no need to explain this one anymore)
i still am...
don't bug me... that's what i understood looking at him from a different prospective... sorry i was just a baby back then
100/9 good reasons for a theatralical goodbye... running at the top of that hill and allways pretending to be the first... 
allways glad...
"there's nothing to worry about...
i'll be there whene u come back... l"
and the cold wind took the worm words
and robbed them of your scent...
