The plaster rolled off the nameless bones. It hides waiting patiently and silently for when we will be unable to run from it. The scars scar and it’s the life that keeps moving us and we keep moving us and the world moves with us. The coffee motors, the money motors, and the motor oil affect our stimulation. It will speed up, it will ditch us in the dust for the birds to prey on, and our children will tell us how incapable we are. As of yet I refuse to submit that I am incapable, I will stand like the proletarian statues of my youth (those without the visible cracks) and keep going until my collapse. Only then will you tell me which way to roll my wheelchair.


  1. I know it does exist and will be just like you said.
    As of yet i dont need to prouve anything, i think of you every morning life, i don t mind if you don t care, i don t mind if you re getting whatever with green hairs or old , i will feel it even if you become a vegetable or just a body, you will stay like the black shape of my life blowing with me for ever above the graves in Paris, you will never lose your wings, i will make fly your wingchair on the seven heaven ways of the air.

  2. Quand il n y aura plus personne, qu ils seront tous partis, quand tu seras tout seul ,je viendrai avec toi je serai pres de toi pour la fin. Rien qu en te regardant je te rendrai les vingt trois ans que tu avais, je te montrerai tous les dessins que j ai fait pour toi toute ma vie, je te dessinerai jusqu a ce que tu ne meures plus.

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