por Cristina Bresser
Postado em 29 de Maio de 2017 às 14:43
Inside the suitcase an old sweater wraps the portrait Faded sleeping images of a forgotten time. The thorn sweater snuggles the memories Of people who cannot remember Who they were any longer. The shredded wool yarns try to escape the case In an attempt to run from the past. As it were ever possible. Images of a cold summer, Where the wind was as sharp as their voices Screaming, They were already so far away from each other. A soft rotten blanket occupies the empty spaces opportunities lost in time, a burning path behind, There is no going back Breath, walk, breath, walk on this dusty, dirt road.
Consultoria em Carreira e Desenvolvimento Humano.