Breslau

And that sun went down, while I was in between, up and down, I'm russian mountains. Between feathers and fears, laughters and tears. Got no money in my pocket to bucket, got no heart in my chest to swing my blood. Don't have much, though I worship the bits I have, wanna see the end of my own movie. Even the days I wanna drown, dreaming of seas of beer, even these days, I feel there might exist a gentle tomorrow. Not much belief, zero trust, but out of curiosity I resist. It's a kind of a bad joke my shoes still walk on wet ground, it aint't funny at all but steps are walken. Do I do what I do, do I dream of what my dreams are made of, do I really live this life, who knows, not me. Am I myself or just the guy holding the mirror in front of me. Narcissistic, all this way.

All the path, and the pavement makes my day. But while shadows took me as their boyfriend, here lands an angel called Amilna Estevao, caught flying (by) by Txema Yeste for Numéro, flight styled by Elizabeth Sulcer.