MY LIFE IS

TO DIE EVERY

SECOND

AND

REBORN

IN NEW

COLORS

WELCOME

TO

MY CLOUD

The Artist


The Aesthetics and the

missing
home

To paint is to write
a letter of longing.

And, as the words don’t
live inside, colors are
on the outside.

But when will the paints,
colors, and pains, make
way for freedom?

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food for thought


share the vibe


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