Doubtless they were only clouds in the sky was piled in heat like fruit too full of sunshine they exude a smell of their flesh and passes it seems to detect the taste of a trace brownish, barely perceptible poison which inflames the long summer days -nights of love.
She wonders if this is not the memory that has been interfered in the brown shadow, to pretend to understand. She was tired all the time she felt like crying his tiredness, as if tears were agglutinated in his body-the sensation of this heavy liquid she remembers a little. She
images stuck in time, memories still.
Summer deadened the words she hears them as prizes in the silence, you are so beautiful miss if you knew how much I desire you.
I love you. Always
was still long this summer, it was always summer time suspended.
It does never end, never? This link will explode and that still remains your voice and your look, your desire you will let me borrow not forgotten you who do not remember anything and is reborn again and again the silence - his voice
retains the imprint of their body confused and she deploys the presence of what is no longer resurrect the corpse it was tried to bury her voice weaves around her eyes caressing gestures that strangle it can not, she can not.
She had thought everything was shattered, her, and pieces scattered in an instant at the end of the summer you see how everything explodes from inside-he suddenly n 'There is nothing-flaps mangled and probably you do not know how everything blows up, as everything is then reduced to splinters in the flesh you decide.
He was dead and she thought perhaps she was mistaken, it was not so simple, even with the sky exploded in the sky brown, black sky. It was the tearing of the black sun, this light that had sucked, burned at night, it was the black sun and its destruction.
It was the desire of the explosion probably unwittingly, the end of the summer sky and the clouds become embers, they had loaded all the time of their love -
He promised, again, the memory, he forgets the images in an instant exhausted,-the absence of memory of cemeteries. He forgets to forget as his own face.
was beautiful, the death of the black sun and at the time of his death so violent light.
You think for a moment that it all really breaks, it needed only a moment of silence and death and debris themselves no longer carries the trace of the wound that have created
-forget it as we forget when the time is dead.
She remembers.
It's over.
She thinks that it is always, and never again.
( Photo: C., Berlin Summer 2007)
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