The smell of the wind, my skin is pixeling like a glitch…

Like a Christ with bleached short hair and his Pontius Pilate, you clean yourself from the memory of what just happened, I'll keep my doom, sinking in the moment…

A fox runs free in the fields of the airport, I observe the landscape from the window, the sunset turns the dry hay into a florid orange….

It's like the feeling of crunching your toes when wearing sandals in summer…

I feel, i thrive, i squeeze, i lie…