lunedì 27 settembre 2010


My blue fish
and my red ones.
They want not to reveal what they are aware of - and I suppose that the knowing would both free and kill me.
I'm diving into a book that is a memory of itself (it's just my third time on the way of the man in black which ran thru the desert).

I know what is going to crush me - and I keep on desiring it with every breath which flows through my open mouth.

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