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double life. Life more.

And if life was twofold. Or more. A setback to the shadow-like and transformed that tell another thing, another story somewhere else, dreaming, or just unveiled stars. The realities are not, well, obviously, only what one sees, but then the reality, the sacred, the famous, not only what we perceive, but also, and, last but therefore, the reality of yet another, the smoker, happy to hand, could be also in the same way that we think, what you will, invent, hope.

life dream, angels, people, desperate inventiveness, not to forget, to throw, to clew up, but probably, certainly, to visit, as a supplement, a foundation elevation.

This happens behind the curtain, designed, led, held incommunicado, and much, much, very lovingly, preserved, cherished, the day after, and on the other hand, in the upside aspects, hell for the simple life in the paradise of life, a chinoiserie, what, who gives the quiet and playful ideas and ideas as coitus, the two realities.

One would hope, remember, feel, coming into one another, and that behind that line right now, before, or Vice versatile exchange of thoughts, the two worlds, two appearances, but no other pretense, that misleading, except for boredom, but the simple life.

must appreciate the dichotomies, the hiatus and phantasmagoria, slag delicious, slots and treasures, and a border invisible, useless, that does nothing, says nothing and leaves, yet still often pass, penetrate and draw, one hoped.

my right click, click ....

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Walking on the moon.

The shoes Arno Fabre, and other * * *

It goes from the Tong Doc of shoe polish to shoe decrepit and it walks around in people's minds without moving the foot-to-earth. This is a facility poses as an ornament or a jewel, a kind of fun to start very simple and a quick one for nothing and carries ambushed by the hearts and reasons beyond seas and explanations. The Art Brut of students walking the steps of creation.

Brodequin suspended, boots and hit the toe of a shoe that caresses or overlaps, noise sound the clap the squealing and the shock of touch and gone. Poetry emerges from all sides and flees from where you least expect it.

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This stuff ...

... that was in the skin. Inexplicably, as a casting or the sensation of a permanent and final reason to embrace that drags on. Question feeling, fingering his color ... without doubt, can also be its curves and mannerisms, his faults and peculiarities, the innocuous trifles and trinkets that are revealed only by dint of attendance. A kind of fetish for some delicious and a curious complicity else, kick-ass reunion disconcerting for all, with a history and the future that we would like fragrant share. The creative minds
thermo-molded to the contours and loose cursive give unbridled invite. It is a two-step, approach and sometimes the close combat of personalities and constraints suspended from each.
But ultimately, they were in the skin, this stuff this stuff these things, dancing around the eyes and mixing surprise revelations, as a treasure hunt.

Emotions of an instrument to breath and sigh not see themselves unique. Anyone who gives that which resists, and vice versa at the option of daily atypical and unpredictable. From adventure to adventure on the high seas or in plush lounge, saxophones and flutes beyond the seas land concerns and pursuits of the mind, promise to open their acoustic spaces and touch the beginning and the end new world.
It also works for the tuba or the battery ... of course, of course. An epic circumstances, the feeling of whimsy and slowly creeps in and that is needed.

Curious what a musician can find fascinating about the song of an instrument. There is the pain and happiness and an eagerness to vibrate at the bottom and find chests nuggets vast and rich like so many mysteries.
A history of treasure hunting, gold and the Odyssey of emotions, flea delighted with the air tubes of the body and skin-deep breaths. At the bottom of the cylinder heads, golden jars and reeds quivering heads or transverse bewitching beautiful, this is terra incognita that we must seek.

Or maybe is it just a subtle smoke and mirrors. Arrant mirage. These metals and alloys would they ultimately as transient packaging of alchemy even more valuable? The place where
undresses breathing dream of a loved one and flesh, tucked in the middle of this small corner of the field golden amber escorts quintessences and alcoholates being revealed. The metal body like the alembic of exaltation sigh and breath came ashore.

could reduce this circus in fluid mechanics * linkages and think only of love and piping being entangled, but no. Much happens in secret, it is not pornography shown at all but an invisible hand to touch and feel and retains the fly. At its heart is laid bare copper cauldron bottom of the case. Winds and breezes heating up and kiss, bringing the feeling and the secret passage. The sound of an instrument does not exist, it can be the crowning glory of a great history in the process of manufacture and invent.

unveils And as we raise our sails.

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Time Is On Our Side.

stranding and crustaceans. One might think that the yellow submarine has put on the shelf, arranged balloons and nice and slowly. It is a sadness crushes and apnea smiles, a little corner with nothing, abandonment of the great oceans, beautiful spaces and unforgettable panorama of wonders Cosmorama limitless.

A world of curtain will try to survive in the midst of a plastic aquarium souvenirs.

That's unfortunate in bathyscaphe edge glass ornament, in the shadow of daily marching and gliding over the seas fac-similées and apathetic. Here and there one or two stones hang blue and red falsified some algae counterfeit poor imitation kitsch reality. He floats like an air of deception, forgery is not as vibrate.

... it lacks the cool air from the tops of the waves and driving on water-saturated horizons and promised untold adventures ... it lacks a spirit of piracy and the unrestrained assault of carcasses and exciting ... it lacks that feeling no longer rely neither before nor after the play and at the mercy of impulses and desires, it lacks almost something of a James Dean ...

The three or four Clampin to clown's coat floating vaguely within 30 centimeters of water processed will change nothing. The aquarium, even the sound of capers to forget, will never replace the large and huge surprises of an island.

Yet there at the bottom of this strip of sea room, time will pass, go green shed and re betting background on the soul that will survive. The great outdoors always end up sneaking into the heart of hearts to be right.

Time Is On Our Side.

Oh yes it is.