'How did I come into this', he told himself in thoughts, munching on a buttered ham sandwich, matter-of-factly, with the air of a man who has seen it all and came to accept the vicissitudes of life, still somewhat grudgingly. Suddenly, unaware that his moody rethoric question would turn out to be an adumbration of his forthcoming brewing imagination,this lama guy materializes close to him, floating saintly above the floor, all rugose leathery skin, all the bearings of sanctity, and all Eastasian insular smugness that comes with those ruddy chaps. It was one of those reincarnistas , who play with words: dharma, karma but sadly no shoarma to salivitate his appetite running asunder. The lama secreted bliss and smiled patronizing. No less like a magician holding all cards and conning the crowd to believe in his tricks. His speech was sheer catechismus,repeated over time til his voice, now shrill and trembling, buckling under all that panache, could no longer mask that his enl...
In the cacophany of verbage, ready-made fonts and decontextualized quotes salvaged from the wrecks of cultures that crashes against the cliffs of jadedness, there have always come one a soul that took umbrage at those ghosts of thoughts and decides to walk alone in empty streets while the rain pelts heavy on the grey and rubbish-stubbed pavement and dares to look up to the gun-metallic grim sky that screets and howls but for the consequence of its own nature... and realizing one is oneself and the others themselves, a smile of the unvanquished is raised and all sense is bedded in a sudden enlightment that dispels the blue funk hammering the inside of the cranium with loose inquietude...
Imagine a pale apparition standing fixed under a canopy of vacuous blue brightness, the scorching sun baking the termite mounds of steel and concrete rising from earth flattened and wiped clean of bucolic charms and the morass of Italy's wartime ruins. This moribund backdrop of a hyperrealistic nightmare sinks slowly away, a statuesque silhouette drifts by, blond manes flown, her steps in tune with the whispering breeze of a sullen afternoon. Feminine grace among fading ruins and the rootless anemia, a melancholic sigh swallowed in the mute screech of monochrome starkness...
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