The buying days are getting over,
can you hear me?
The termination is near.
Wear the floral skirt for me… let’s go to the beach and see each other’s assess on warm sand,
I have forgotten to measure everything…but I guess you will lie somewhere between my burning days and touched nights.
I remember I asked you to be my friend and you gave me something more…a habit.
The poems are getting real slow now… sometimes I think about the marvellous times when I could make sentences out of baked cactuses,
I guess, it’s good to finish somewhere, it’s good to know that there’s a horizon where even silence is taken as arts.
The sounds are tripping over the flow of words,
the monologue is over…
Can you hear me babe?

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Photograph: Artists hut.