miércoles, 8 de marzo de 2017

There's an old dirty man who is sitting in the corner, people dance around him and I do it too. Flashes and racket and sweat and suppressed sex, among the lights I find a door and I go in. Nothing that an artist must say to describe, the disorder of a blue beautiful mind.

There's so many places into my mind you wouldn't like be invited to.
Would you?

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