small self-portrait with yellow (the 'go?)
the chair I wanted to give a new identity and
the case led me in the yellow jar.
worked tirelessly.
When he finished the job I was happy but I felt
inquetude
anywhere and something had made up my mind.
I was yellow.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Sipsony Erricson W595
portrait with yellow (escape?)
The color slowly crept into my day
in objects right into the substance and whether it was
passion eventually became habit.
wanted yellow.
Then I dreamed I had to destroy the chair
using fire and pointed to my camp stove
did nothing to dissolve the yellow.
I was all colors.
In fact, the chair I have not burned out.
The color slowly crept into my day
in objects right into the substance and whether it was
passion eventually became habit.
wanted yellow.
Then I dreamed I had to destroy the chair
using fire and pointed to my camp stove
did nothing to dissolve the yellow.
I was all colors.
In fact, the chair I have not burned out.
International Color Chart Hair
self
They're there for years. They work continuously. Are mine and mine alone. They have character.
speak and move. Hands and beyond. Caught in a moment. Fast capture space. The Polaroid
create memories. I sewed my hands at Polaroid. My hands are now a memory.
Also tell them. The vague emotions run through. Enough. Do not have to explain. They refer
. This makes my hands of all. They are hands. Sometimes they hurt. I only
forutna of them. To use them. They are alive. They have stories to tell.
and I've only photographed. Blurred. They were fast. They were busy. Nerve.
Suburbs of myself. They move sincere.
They're there for years. They work continuously. Are mine and mine alone. They have character.
speak and move. Hands and beyond. Caught in a moment. Fast capture space. The Polaroid
create memories. I sewed my hands at Polaroid. My hands are now a memory.
Also tell them. The vague emotions run through. Enough. Do not have to explain. They refer
. This makes my hands of all. They are hands. Sometimes they hurt. I only
forutna of them. To use them. They are alive. They have stories to tell.
and I've only photographed. Blurred. They were fast. They were busy. Nerve.
Suburbs of myself. They move sincere.
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