old transparent blue yellow milimetric cardboard grey white paper transfer print glue and RYB string.
wrong words expressions junk and much less.
while we wait
0123
Met the sky and kissed the sea, but i always knew that the sky couldn't embrace me, nor the sea rest me. Down the drain in sinking spirals, the night is bleached by turning. Try to accept the the wheel, end up washed out,burried beneath its hard crust. a new i everyday to sea.are we all just washing machines, tumbling moments inside ourselves until they crumble to fine pixels of sand? Does nothingness rest our souls finally? Billions of turning wheels in the street, chearning, grinding, pounding, falling, ticking, talking,,,one repetitive motion to grind us all into one.
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