This restlessness is so much greater than this panorama of a warm sunset.
The places we held our hands and promised to be incessant with our lust…
eyes met so many smudges and still we smiled with the weight of an apocalypse.
That’s the beauty of being drunk and lonely with your correspondences,
we were decaying with happiness…we were dissolving with our every moaning.
Ah the starry matters…the waves in a foreign moonlight…the sounds of the beyonds and mystic lands…
wrapping the sheet, the strands of hairs falling from the maroon pillows.
Give me scars baby…give me all the scars you can…this moment is passing like sleeping ocean…scars…scars…
The evening is near to get lost in your elasticity.

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Photograph: Pierre Putman.