terça-feira, 17 de dezembro de 2013

After the huge pain, after the glorious revolution and bloody days what's left is silence, rotten silence. Hours under the blankets, days under the covers. It's a month of no faces, no inspiration, no movement. A disconnected year - trapped, hidden. Gravity of trying and not achieving. Ache of every single shift.
Looking back to the mirror and not being there. The memories are gone.

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