Empty hands search magic hats to discover who they were
Echoes from the past reverb on the dusty walls of imagination
It’s you again, always you and that mischief eyes
What can I do to stop the regret of discovering?
The newness that I don’t live, I left it in the pass along with a wonderful possibility
It’s this faith that ruins everything.
Life is water in a sense
- as much liquid and softness it can adhere
in the blue wool that covers the nude bodies of our lust -
Beside me stands a river of gold
Do you feel like swimming?
I’m always one step aside trying to get in, trying to be a part.
Maybe next time.
O voo da Cegonha - Texto e fotografia,Mz Os arrozais estão assim em Agosto. Espigados, de bago verde quase a amadurecer e antes que a paisagem se altere, o bago amadureça...