jeigreis

While painting the nails she wonders why she has so much affection for black. It's cold and empty like evil eye, reminds often of painful, hard whack given by life. Relentless, strict but with secret charm, summons those thoughts you've tried to forget. Grows the mortal fear like on truck farm, cruelly forces you to regret entire life. She's painting her nails inspite of all, thinking of wisdom she got from him, seeing the black in unusual role. Ignoring well known darkness, the dim of her short life. Because after all she's gonna prove the black consist of so many hues you've never wished, needed, foreseen, you could be nev

even though power of touch melts the ice heals burns up soothes in the same time delightfully pets with warmth of life and self-complacency pleasure satisfaction are within reach of hands cheeks eyelashes beware of fake passion emotion robbers are looking forward to feed on you *** I have had no inspitation recently, can't write, can't take photos, can't paint... I feel very bad with that, I miss the possibility of expressing my feelings through art, but somehow I forgot how to do that. There is a magical, inexplicable barrier inside me, which makes me a slave of my own feelings. It's so frustrating...

When he blows, when he romps in leafy rubble, they dance. Masters of own fate in the limelight of life exert theirselves to smile and through tears of slavery demonstrate their idealized freedom. In the meantime souls are calling... from every single leaf with the same, muffled by the breath, voice. Can you hear them? No... You  watch only, pleasing your eyes with their clownish moves... and dancing just as he blows...