Time, of course, is a killer
but it is sensitive to fossils
and when it is marked it looks like an elephant.
On the smooth sand there is a row of steps,
the wind can not sweep it away,
the row is in the sea
and I draw it in my dreams.
A plough, a woman, a womb
lips parted in a stiff
Beauty is a rare thing
if it were not so
the word “beauty” would have a different meaning.
...while the miniaturist keeps on decorating our dreams...
a moment is like a kiss
which the time gives to itself.
On the smooth sand there is a row of steps,
the wind can not sweep it away,
the row is in the sea
and I draw it in my dreams.
Grazie Riccardo Prencipe...
