Essencemagical wanderingwhen is the crossroadsblazing fireyou put on your shoesand tuck the shirtwithout saying ita sharp pain in the stomachyou seek shadeyou the sun in distaffand put your handon the main beamsans que les cieux pâtissentreddened cheekbonesgo through the windowobsolete restraintsa festoon of lightin Lent to beyou take the wavede plein fouetdon't back down from anythingla gorge nueimagine that i love youand look goodsitting in the high seatthe lime tree rustling with beesthe dog runs under the arborand raise the dust welcomeand shut upburns with a matchthe uvula of the mindfor a smile with moist lipsto the awakening of free soulsthought is sereneknead your memoriespar une déglutition activeremains the taste of blood with trembling handsat dawnyou will see the openingfrom the dura materfull in its undulationsin the crook of your shoulderlet goe
to the secret fiberthe discreet bandagea button just a little yellow buttonto unseat your wise bodya thousand holesêtre de garde et d'estocyou the millennialmountain meadowsbe the blue foxgloveof the mysterious signembodied verbque le doute anticipemy lifemy huge lifewith vermeil angeluswith a deep cutvent oh great windbreath without fatigueles girouettes crient613
Age point who owns the memories to inspire us meaningful actions ceremonious even, revealing images with a vital force of body and soul partisan. wedding stitch porous fortress stuffed with common possessions in threat without real danger for fear of breaking up marry the shape young and smiling in consummate solitude without a face emerging.
Age point who owns the memories to inspire us meaningful actions ceremonious even, revealing images with a vital force of body and soul partisan. wedding stitch porous fortress stuffed with common possessions in threat without real danger for fear of breaking up marry the shape young and smiling in consummate solitude without showing a face. 515
With a happy paw in elegant company she advanced on the uphill path of gritty sand and gravel. We had to go there without covering oneself up with evasions adorable sideburns of standing queues demonstrative swelling nor beatings to the ego. I am so i move on without the reflection strangling me I organize the base camp I square the angles of permissiveness I create. no mentalism the action reveals its horizons the work hatches the confidence is there full of poppies in full basket from one reciprocity to another on the edge of ordinary and non-ordinary reality. 511
On the bridge the trains pass vibrant and colorful bunches of memories with ripped throats put away pride the air vibrates with the hoarseness of toads hats fall hair stands on end a bouquet of wild flowers a smell of hay a clearing between clouds the weather is full of light. Mallet Strike drum leather the short sound river ripples the bells on the fly enter the temple the officiants of the act climb the mountain of the muses under the chanting warriors of oblivion.
Step by step, from trip to trip, in the arena of a circus where the wheel turns the rumor lifts the velvet curtains. colorful entrance, noisy barnum, raised dust of the animal procession the passions of the soul raised to the pinnacles of the temples dismantle la lente construction de la raison. Of blood and colors, the furious cries of the Erinyes have destroyed the landscapes of childhood ; the clay lips of springs have made way with cement nozzles, the stone of the protections has been torn out, the hedges have been cut down, filled ditches, the silver fox ne trouvera plus le centre des offices, an evil wind blows the lumps of earth towards the dry stone terraces, an old ash tree whispers its last dispositions.
The night coos, soul pigeons overhanging breaches of the human condition ; populist lies replace the song of the poets, the tracks of war engines follow the iron shoes of the hairy, the sky is darkening, even the trees sculpted by the west wind lay down in the storm. The air is foul, against the wailing wall the papers of envy crumpled and forced at the joints of the stones covered in lichens become panting flesh of a random tzimtzum. emaciated hands, out of the pockets to match scratch oblivion ; rolling eyes clip the values of the spirit, sulfur cream made up with a clown's smile, nos errances dernières sont à portée des crocs. The fury takes over at night, in silence, made ugly by the passions of the soul fights and hatreds ; dappled by lifting new harvests, annonciatrices des renaissances à venir. There is officinal herbs than those of spring, collegiate herbs of lovers' kiss scattered in search of the great upheaval, a piece of bread at the bottom of the bag, l'eau dans le creux de la main. Nous entendrons le son des ricochets, pebbles thrown on the river, accessible to asylum seekers, en sortie d'exil. 513
Deep in the lake black the intimate the call of mystery.
Accustomed to the banks the rose garden lapping with ease resistant to go further off the springs that the wind blows strangely free in front of the beast with unreasonable gulps digging dry mandibles the cupule where to grind our emotions.
From right to left the eye wiper separates the visible from the invisible under the thrill of the sky. Chubby clouds punctuate of their fat smiles the thought of the bells that the echo pierces. Riding turbaned lake scents true chance of our origin.
crumpled paper music on the rippled pond between the archangel and the murex purpurine strangulation Sunday bells sans reminder the bag is full of dandelions going against the shore she was rolling her stone. A bird passed smiling with a smile the eyebrow of the clouds.
