Twelve o'clock. Along the reaches of the street Held in a lunar synthesis, Whispering lunar incantations Disolve the floors of memory And all its clear relations, Its divisions and precisions, Every street lamp that I pass Beats like a fatalistic drum, And through the spaces of the dark Midnight shakes the memory As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
Love the photos, love the title. It's funny, I'm always taking pictures of street lamps, and my friends laugh at me... Thank you for making me feel normal :-) For following «sentidos livres». And for sharing these great pictures, no matter what subject they portray. Cheers
Likey
ResponderEliminarLove the photos, love the title. It's funny, I'm always taking pictures of street lamps, and my friends laugh at me... Thank you for making me feel normal :-) For following «sentidos livres». And for sharing these great pictures, no matter what subject they portray.
ResponderEliminarCheers
Lá longe... mas vê-se!
ResponderEliminar