Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Bergeroil Colour Chart

Return.

my little Amélie, you do not have bones of glass.
you can come up against life.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Pedestal Sink Hide Plumbing

Bonjour, pleut. Back to the start

a cold wind blows. He slips under clothes yet light and quietly announced the arrival of autumn.
E 'this wind howling in my ears and ruffles his hair, which will take me away, in the other place - not anywhere else, for Elsewhere I do not know where he is, just a distant dream and impalpable.
The feeling that this wind to help me escape, rather than move, it stings my heart - the heart that now feels all heart pulsating, noisy and helpless, completely open heart.
The diamond has been broken for some time, the cloth is mordibido carefully folded in a drawer. Now I live and breath.
how I can support the full weight of this September, so hard.
Days undefined, in which the body occupies space in a place and a part of me is already hopelessly beyond projected .
As if to start over, albeit in a new house with new people, with eleven new courses and exams, it meant back through a mirror. I hate the idea that despite everything hangs inside me, that everything is a parallel universe, because it means that will never touch that really all this, I'm going to leave again. And I wonder if we really want these two worlds are founded, or if you do not really prefer that they remain quite distinct. Aware that one of them is prevailing over the other.
Just like a year ago, I fill the suitcase of hopes, dreams, good intentions. And I close with a little 'desire to leave, I'm not so convinced that you want to hide.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Nike Monster Baseball



They talk about the imminent end of the world.
An experiment that could prove fatal wrong.
I do not believe it.
Like just weave complex and hyperbolic speeches on my end and on the universal justice that would bring everything - from the slimy worm monaco enlightened - to become star dust, the same pain imperceptible, at the same speed, same moment. Losing everything and nothing. Why would be the end for everyone, without distinction.
And while television and newspapers contend that we are in danger of being swallowed by a black hole, I, an incurable romantic, I will continue to believe that, if we must call it quits, we will do so very romantic, and thus turning them into exploding nebula.
will return what we were: stardust.
donating extreme redemption in a death so stupid.
I like to imagine how it would, because I know that will not happen, and I read by chance "Blues at the end of the world" to McEwan, who performs so wonderfully well our apocalyptic sense.
This false threat of CERN is nothing but a sort of collective exorcism.
I am afraid that will not help, everything will flow inevitably, inexorably the same.
Perhaps, for a moment, that instant when each of us instinctively believe the news and the possibility, people (people no, not even in this extreme case) have stopped thinking. Perhaps for a moment that is not calculated - not planned - people first glimpsed the hidden beauty of their sight. But somehow that the world is even more unlikely to change its incipient implosion. The beauty remains a privileged few. And everything will proceed in a slow roll, gray and metallic.