




LIGHT RAIN
Parfum extract
Have you ever tried to smell wet wood for the fireplace?
On the mountain of loneliness, a gray cloud tells me I am in someone's hand.
And it leads me by the hand to where existences weep.
Every verse of my poems is a step next to the untouched.
And the world is lost.
With the falling drops, I don't measure time; I am simply far away from life.
And I merge with the dramatic sound of emotions.
It rains on the void, and the scream becomes matter, breaking the silence.
The voices waver.
There is the encounter between the asphalt and its liquid steps, drawing and affirming the lonely person,
in the existential metropolises of noise. Weak.
There is the fear of wood silently floating, astonished by the water that deceives, creates mold, and hinders the fire. Strong.
Here is the dance in the darkness, among the clouds of solo singing, wanting to embrace eternal flesh. We are lovers, immersed in the drama of each other's salty tears, and now united by the rain that mixes the smells to make them one. Intense rain.
Atmospheres of emotions.
Often bought together:
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