quiet reflections

french dream. on its way.

thinking with pictures and cannot describe 'em in words. like transpotting- stream of images, melting one into another, my thoughts flow and I cannot properly catch any of them. somewhere where was your face for a split second there is a sand of a beach by the Thames and in next few moments it's a child with ice-cream. this kind of stream is unstopable, like a daydream
your face coming back before I'm falling asleep thinking about the warmth of your hands

lines are like roads waiting to start the journey at...

COLD.BUT.SUNNY

'CAUSE I'M BROKEN