There’s somewhere a knowledge inside these layered grey clouds,
there’s somewhere a joy in the way we struggle in our ideas.
Art is about inhibition
from the greed of remembrance…
Even the best rots in abundance and the worst sinks himself in the pool of junks,
but ideas are always cured from the acceptance of livings.
During sunset in a horizontal desert,
when the bushes are free,
sands are warm
and a scattered purple triggers a longing in our desire,
we can all find a field of neon butterflies.
All of them flapping the light wings
and giving the disturbed a portal of complete awareness.
Generally in these places; the corpses of the last civilized species are found.

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Painting: Warren Criswell.