Art is long and time is fleeting and our hearts though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating, Funeral marches to the grave..
"The flowers of evil"-C.Baudelaire
29.6.07
Αν θα μπορούσα ...
ΣΗΜΕΡΑ ΝΙΩΘΩ ΠΩΣ ΔΕΝ ΑΛΛΑΖΩ ΤΙΠΟΤΑ..ΠΩΣ ΦΕΥΓΟΥΝ ΟΙ ΜΕΡΕΣ ΚΑΙ ..ΤΙΠΟΤΑ
