Reading poetry lines etched in an unknown language, becomes a window through which strange scenes emerge. You see shadows and colours talking with someone in these photos of strange textures. Your tongue and eyes become as a poem that cuts through dense meaning, the edge of a language knife.
You tell the empty room where you have flown with mauve laughter. Silence replies like bird-songs on empty branches.
Shaken streets wind their written rules on the edge of the pavement. The steps of uncertain figures move along to destinations that shimmer and drift under smokey streetlights . Echoes of music from instruments of forgotten strings and chimes linger at the edge of pages. Finally, shaking free, you return to ignorance.