but, dad, roses are without why, today i shave and brush my teeth without filthy. and when i put them in the carton box, like a new protestant pilot from the nato troops, waiting for the paramedics, he passes among the graves
you died in my arms. the orphan air with the light on. and when love is a raffia string, love i gave up the belt, schizophrenia and old age.
his head underwater.