Hey, you here.
My pal Oblomov has some serious skills and I would like you to listen to them.
This is talent. This is music. This is here.
At first, she is scarred. She wears several necklaces, even a candy one which strangles her fragile skin. She wears sunglasses, big ones, like pretty much everyone here.
Claudia is sitting on the couch. At first, she is scared by my questions and answers with monosyllables. She doesn’t know it is like that for everyone I ask my questions to. Love is a lock and at first people are shying themselves from it.
I have spent the last week wandering around and asking my three little questions.
When you dive into your own past, the bricks of memory lane fade as you go deeper into yourself.
Memories have their own light, and I know when an event has been stored within me as a thread of my past, because the images come back shinier, wet from this special sunshine of our unconscious.