You see, one night, break our lines. They get tangled and distorted.
You see that? The line softens but it runs, the body becomes accidental transparencies. The expression melts and purifies on sunken cheeks, bumpy edges exposed to the light of a star yet unknown.
You see these signs of another time, where the color dares to turn slowly. Where the grace of vanished gestures shudders carefully.
And then we must leave more completely the scene, guided by the Almighty which darkens the days of those who remain.
We are only puppets of a B serie, suspended between two worlds.