to beautify, because that's about it, because otherwise nothing would be - you and me, me and you - two puppets sad one in convoluted threads of another, for beautifying said, we figured in Manhattan. Imagine Manhattan. Among the many sights and sounds you feel that nothing matters, a bit like a narcotic, a little like pure, soft and slippery and terrible illusion. Manhattan with their beaks to tear clouds, with their hysterical screams flying Madison Boulevard, with its stained glass windows with such insolent and mini skirts that barely disturbed by the roar of the underground smoldering
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Digivue Grabber Driver Literary Walk
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