| You're your tail |
The maps I draw up represent my body, a body that is ultimately the same for everyone. I turn around, turn around, I'm back to square one.
wandering
The maps I draw up represent my body, a body that is ultimately the same for everyone. I turn around, turn around, I'm back to square one.
A new free and raw blog, as a necessary refuge for the written word. A little secret but not stuttering and spontaneously readable for anyone who would like to come there.
Even and especially when it is touched by love, the couple is a matter of non-desire. This love becomes a repulsive thing.
There's a wolf waiting for me at the end of the highway. Pay up carnivorous age. Doesn't mean I took a wrong turn.
Enough to bivouac after the attacks and to take the air on a motorway area where you can park to enjoy the clear sky.
One morning, or rather one night, a new blog was born in my little family of sites, a messed-up blog, designed to collect spelling mistakes with a ladle.
The true individual venturing out of his isolation room, faints on contact with the air. He refuses to be legibly embodied in his words and deeds...
Empirical excavations reveal the root system of David Noir Production. Between the tortuous roots and the brambles are articles.
Attempted social evasion | There's no room for social chatter here. Not even on a good morning. And that's just as well.
It is up to certain libertines to want to escape the "mawkishness of free sex" from which they claim to be exempt.