New Website
Há 8 anos
terça-feira, 20 de julho de 2010
quarta-feira, 7 de julho de 2010
Pervertations
Action in the paperbin sexual urge furniture, the blowjob sindicate presents an ass-tray complaint at a boob-shelf library.
A belly-button cup of tea filled by the staircase legs in tongue climbing, the intercorsary of the seven sea stalk sends a telegraph of pleasure licking folders and history mistery, declaring clitoris is victorious.
Water begging down on its knees expresses the nymphoria of our inner cascading, dripping tease, tasting brick and cement boners as a bonus prize for slavery of body-talk, an automatic seep of hope in opium opus, the exchange of particle contact, trembling skin aroused on momentaneous velvet car crash.
Shake those shapes and twirl the world, oint life with dreams come true and put some magic in your shoe-laces which I trip and I'm on a trip to pulchritude, while the moon lights the gravel highway like a candle of no mistake.
It's hard but I'm already hard as nails in my coffin forever having me feeling so hasty like I just drank a hundred coffees in a row, my own pulse beeps through my ears. The supplicating mat reminisced your lips around me, hugging as my bed just called for you. A squeezing quiz of turned tables at the restaurant of love.
A belly-button cup of tea filled by the staircase legs in tongue climbing, the intercorsary of the seven sea stalk sends a telegraph of pleasure licking folders and history mistery, declaring clitoris is victorious.
Water begging down on its knees expresses the nymphoria of our inner cascading, dripping tease, tasting brick and cement boners as a bonus prize for slavery of body-talk, an automatic seep of hope in opium opus, the exchange of particle contact, trembling skin aroused on momentaneous velvet car crash.
Shake those shapes and twirl the world, oint life with dreams come true and put some magic in your shoe-laces which I trip and I'm on a trip to pulchritude, while the moon lights the gravel highway like a candle of no mistake.
It's hard but I'm already hard as nails in my coffin forever having me feeling so hasty like I just drank a hundred coffees in a row, my own pulse beeps through my ears. The supplicating mat reminisced your lips around me, hugging as my bed just called for you. A squeezing quiz of turned tables at the restaurant of love.
terça-feira, 29 de junho de 2010
terça-feira, 6 de abril de 2010
terça-feira, 30 de março de 2010
Sincronia e Diacronia
Uma ampulheta misturada com um relógio convencional, misturada com um relógio de Sol, misturada com um elevador. Do centro das bases ilusórias vem uma espiral de sentidos opostos que se encontram no centro da ampulheta.
Na realidade esta ampulheta não se pode inverter, pois apenas caminhamos inevitavelmente do passado para o futuro (representado no desenho como no sentido de cima para baixo, um pouco como uma força da gravidade). Deduzo portanto que o sentido inverso seja uma retrospectiva, algo como as memórias. A única maneira de voltar atrás.
O tempo é uma dimensão ambígua e paradoxal. O presente está sempre a tornar-se passado, e simultaneamente transforma-se em futuro.
"Let me introduce you to my time machine"
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