Synapsis
A sort of trophy of hunting, where the emptying of the head and the useless one to fluctuate some feathers they bring back to an obsessive vision of the life to a new typology of human being in which there is no more human pity. And because the life, in the third millennium, it is obsession for the inadequacy that each of us feels, as the shade of the wound on the skin.
Comments 5
Say something