isn't this touching? now you will perhaps understand better why i come back here time after time, seduced by longing. taking pictures is never my intention, yet i end up snapping the mobile lens to preserve these crumbs.
still life in the middle of a necropolis, a double one since it obtained the status of a sights. a tomb for tombs. and your beating heart in the middle of it.
there you stand, above a grave whose cross was stolen by the scrap collectors, imagining the hands that composed this twig cross. come back to touch the ground with a running life. sap like blood.
there you stand, above a grave whose cross was stolen by the scrap collectors, imagining the hands that composed this twig cross. come back to touch the ground with a running life. sap like blood.
still life among the iron bars
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