This only can be a nightmare,
a confused dream
a painful travel
without sense, without destiny.
It only could be a nightmare,
a trap without doors
where dark feelings lives
where you have all and nothing.
This vision, this confusion,
this misperception: the grey
sorrow falling on my
shoulder: thoughts under the stars.
It only was a nigthmare,
an unwanted visitor in a one-way trip.
A nonsense map.
And lost in this dark..., the fog.
And the people around, laughing and floating, told him he has to stop drinking.
photography: "fog", kodachrome transparency and text by © inercies_