One evening, one night, in the cold of a park. A bench covered with snow. A white light under the icy wind. Some traces of step in snow. The idea of the summer, in love coupled. The thought of children playing with passion in front of an attentive mother. A ridiculous memory. Like this stereotype. Tomorrow, with the return of the sun, there will not exist any more. Will remain only the image of a transitory past.
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
