You know the place where three roads coincide to disappear into nothing,
well I will wait for you there.
Under the scrambled tree.
Only you can show me the barbarism in love, in passion, in art,
’cause you have the pearls of unfulfillment covered around you…
And it has always been a wild recipe for creation.
You know there are not any evenings of quiet and monumental snowfalls left in me…
I can see the flag is uprooted from it’s pride,
the flag of everything…the flag of one and for all.
That’s perhaps my best work till date.
Everything else is just the aspirations of nightclubs under northern lights.
Anyway I will be standing there wrapped with this humble flag of mine,
and for the first time a man will go from here with a flag; not stained by the blood of satisfactions.

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Photograph: Adorama.