christel-daccache

Age paints my dreams, age paints it black. Hours drive me insane; it is the only distance that stands between me and my sanity. I’m afraid it passes quickly unnoticed, I’m afraid it does not pass at all. I’m shame. I’m hate. I’m pain. I’m the genes of my ancestors.

mes fantasmes









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Chris
"My twisted mind has the shape and color of my flesh". I cannot always replace my words with traces and colors, even though it's easier for me. But it's hard to swallow words as they waltz. Penetrating one another, as the dreamer rises up his wings. Shy as usual, greedy maybe, to write down a few simple sentences describing what my soul whispers.
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