The end of the world would be to lose you. The end of the world would be to lose us. That a sun which does not lie down comes to burn our lives. That the cold of the winter rises white of white frost which it recovers our hearts. That we are tetanize, unable to move, petrified. The end of the world would be to remain impotent, the swinging arms, the cracks of the ground separating us. A growing hollow ditch. You on a side, me of the other howling, crying. The end of the world is this vacuum which each day threatens us. Its risk is long-lived. We know it.
J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
