ROAD – A room full of abandoned shoes. But out of all her shoes she is on, in many forms: one disappered. Now if then comes running up, proud, smiling, through the dark of the lion’s Gate, pains behind the Sun. She is a shadow resting under flowers, under grass and I hink died like a monkey in her shoes, in her old coat in the cold wind that dream of life after hunt continues. I will at unknown places, there your traces prints, the heels in the sand.
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