Instants
Photo by Cottonbro studio on Pexels
We are instants... There is Andrew, with a look that agonizes, with the sadness that moths. Locked and confined in his memories. At war and in an altercation with his lunch. With taciturn antipathy and belligerence, he refuses to receive the succulent food. His inseparable and gallant muse has departed.
Thank you very much for your visit.