The memory of a wheat field
There remains to me the memory of a wheat field. Rain falling, a softened ground. Clouds...
You could forgive me
One night, a taste of rain. Lights, shades. A lack of desire. Very which sinks. Without...
The evening of infinite of your nights.
I am the phantom of your nights. The angel which accompanies your trouble. Wings spread...
A never ending story
A room of restaurant for us two. Looking itself in the eyes. The night, days following....
Blacks
One starlight night, to trail, under a black sky. Stars with the manufactured colors,...
An exposure wihout life
There could be music techno, lasers, a hellish noise. The wind which rises, rain which...
April
April, fragile. I like your long lashes, your slender body. Your name with the gleams of...
Hung of gold
A face which suffers, which twists. Drops of rain which stream on a body in crumbs, in...
Me and my dog
Me and my dog we were mislaid. In the too broad city with the streets traced like...
There are no more colors on the walls
There are no more colors on the walls, nor on the cars. Weigh this cold which one...
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
