Berger Paint Colur Chart

That's life ... Perhaps not everyone knows that

Everything flows.

the dripping candle, empty glasses, bottles, barrels. Reel consciences in the nebula of desires.
bloom in the shadow of indifference flowers on which bees - still pupae - will rest tomorrow or maybe never.
Everything ends, and sometimes goes to a bad end.

Everything flows. And what we will continue to be white noise, there will be ghost tracks. Only tangible scars. Or the time that sweeps away the signs of what he believed injured. The hollow echo of all the repeated words, the loop stops. Frame by frame
pile up the times and evenings ungrateful idiots. The strobe

who click as the dawn rises. The
eyed fox with the grapes.
a cigarette - the last
on.
The evening ended when the door is closed. If we step
quite late to go shopping.