Authorz: bogpan

My pigeons. These, who live in the birdhouse, (for pets) are not at all “my” pigeons. I am not there during the day. And I…

as a child I take a look this world a luminous bubble swept by winds fades the morning of rains

With its death the day gilds the leaves. I do not know the names of the tree and it doesn’t matter for beauty.

Here the rain. Here The palms Here a bit of rain. Everything’s moving, here. We are walking folded. Who is fondling your face.

Time is an idea of the over-ripe mind The sky bent dries the earth Did you achieve anything more than Pain Wreath for the eyes…