I wish i could capture music in a picture.
That tree was literally crying, bending down to the ground. The desert around it was overwhelming. Its solitude absolute. Its tears, solidified leaves. Sun cruelly standing still up in the sky. Our broken car was taking a warm rest on the side of the road. Help was probably on its way. While looking for a trace of a shadow a voice said: I know why that tree is crying. Someone died on it. That branch is perfect for hanging. Judging by her gaze that must have been my voice.
Help was still on its way.
Two lights speeding towards each-other. Like car games for children. Their white is perfect camouflage in the sunshine. Blinding windows. Inner explosions. Sounds of air attacks. They almost kiss in the parking lot. Doors open and they are running towards one another. It's like a reunion. A bloodied body is taken out on a stretcher. They try to push life into it through electrical wires. Blood slowly drips down in dust. The woman's angel flaps its wings desperately while electrocuted. She is in horror. The tree is still crying. Sun still cruel. Got a pulse someone shouts. They smuggle the reanimated bleeding body in the other car. Both take off in full speed and disappear over the hill. This picture was better in silence. Blood blackens while drying.
Where is the delete button?
Whenever i had a nose bleed or i would cut my finger i would drink my own blood and pretend to be a vampire. My mom said that drinking your own blood is a Jewish thing. She didn't say if it was good or bad. I've heard there are people who do that with their own sperm.
How do you put smell in a picture?
That day, in the garden of the memorial house I've smelled the wild roses. They were pink and resembled a mild death. I understood why he wrote those poems. A similar wild rose was growing inside of him. He probably inhaled one seed while dozing off in the shadow of that big tree.
How does an electrocuted angel smell?
She breaths heavily and stares into my eyes. Her lips are slightly open. Pupils dilated. Waiting to be ravished. I try to stop the beast that grows within me. Will is so strong i could tear her apart and feed with her flesh. How do you put desire in a picture? My blood is pulsating and i get numb. Dizzy. I feel all. I see all. I understand all. I am desire and death. She is an angel praying to be electrocuted. We kiss. We embrace. We touch. We collide. We die. We resurrect. We separate.
How do you infuse life into a picture? It's why they've invented the video-camera...
In 19th century people were taking pictures of their dead beloved ones. Sitting them on chairs or lying on their dying beds they were photographed as if they were sleeping. Their eternal sleep captured for eternity. (E)motionless. Before the first fist of sand fell on their coffins. A picture is an eternal memory of something that just ceased to exist.
Memory is a graveyard. Images of the past are tombstones.
When the sun exhausted its fire help arrived. Towed us to the big city. They fixed the car in 12 minutes. One hour later we checked in the hotel. When diving into the salty blue water all the dust, the blood and the sunburn washed away. Saw her perky breasts facing the waves. Felt the warm embrace of the sea. Heard the sound of its furious passion. Left my self float. Liberated for a moment. Closed eyes.
To dream or to forget reality it's pretty much the same....
That tree was literally crying, bending down to the ground. The desert around it was overwhelming. Its solitude absolute. Its tears, solidified leaves. Sun cruelly standing still up in the sky. Our broken car was taking a warm rest on the side of the road. Help was probably on its way. While looking for a trace of a shadow a voice said: I know why that tree is crying. Someone died on it. That branch is perfect for hanging. Judging by her gaze that must have been my voice.
Help was still on its way.
Two lights speeding towards each-other. Like car games for children. Their white is perfect camouflage in the sunshine. Blinding windows. Inner explosions. Sounds of air attacks. They almost kiss in the parking lot. Doors open and they are running towards one another. It's like a reunion. A bloodied body is taken out on a stretcher. They try to push life into it through electrical wires. Blood slowly drips down in dust. The woman's angel flaps its wings desperately while electrocuted. She is in horror. The tree is still crying. Sun still cruel. Got a pulse someone shouts. They smuggle the reanimated bleeding body in the other car. Both take off in full speed and disappear over the hill. This picture was better in silence. Blood blackens while drying.
Where is the delete button?
Whenever i had a nose bleed or i would cut my finger i would drink my own blood and pretend to be a vampire. My mom said that drinking your own blood is a Jewish thing. She didn't say if it was good or bad. I've heard there are people who do that with their own sperm.
How do you put smell in a picture?
That day, in the garden of the memorial house I've smelled the wild roses. They were pink and resembled a mild death. I understood why he wrote those poems. A similar wild rose was growing inside of him. He probably inhaled one seed while dozing off in the shadow of that big tree.
How does an electrocuted angel smell?
She breaths heavily and stares into my eyes. Her lips are slightly open. Pupils dilated. Waiting to be ravished. I try to stop the beast that grows within me. Will is so strong i could tear her apart and feed with her flesh. How do you put desire in a picture? My blood is pulsating and i get numb. Dizzy. I feel all. I see all. I understand all. I am desire and death. She is an angel praying to be electrocuted. We kiss. We embrace. We touch. We collide. We die. We resurrect. We separate.
How do you infuse life into a picture? It's why they've invented the video-camera...
In 19th century people were taking pictures of their dead beloved ones. Sitting them on chairs or lying on their dying beds they were photographed as if they were sleeping. Their eternal sleep captured for eternity. (E)motionless. Before the first fist of sand fell on their coffins. A picture is an eternal memory of something that just ceased to exist.
Memory is a graveyard. Images of the past are tombstones.
When the sun exhausted its fire help arrived. Towed us to the big city. They fixed the car in 12 minutes. One hour later we checked in the hotel. When diving into the salty blue water all the dust, the blood and the sunburn washed away. Saw her perky breasts facing the waves. Felt the warm embrace of the sea. Heard the sound of its furious passion. Left my self float. Liberated for a moment. Closed eyes.
To dream or to forget reality it's pretty much the same....
Niciun comentariu:
Trimiteți un comentariu