do not need the image, just the presence, heavy, deep-rooted, strong and nasty. The bird appears here as a way of making continuous change, layering, color uncertainty, evidence destruction techniques, screwdrivers and hammers.
Nightmare for several nights, the canvas was standing there like a Indian Dreamcatcher, a bulwark against the spread, with the back of my mind.
Everything was laid on the canvas. The rain in August, the July sun, the tears, fists, fear, color, thin hair and my hand cattle.
Time is dilated, unnecessary time, empty. Several days have settled without a trace. A few minutes have instead given the action that led to the reaction of the canvas.
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