Its last breaths of life.
The tears of a bad time cry. Where the heart empties came to be given up. On the sand of...
My sorrow
On the thin wire of our lost illusions. Passes in creepage distance. A cursed galley....
I dream of a strong love
I dream of a strong and spellbinding love. Carrying me to the sources of the elation. In...
Our last hours
In the exaggeration of an extreme slowness. On your face the expression was born from...
Unperceivable crumbling of time
Unperceivable crumbling of time. Strike the honesty of our feelings. Throbbing doubt. Of...
In the vault of our lapses of memory.
There is this a little fuzzy veil. Who darkens the memory. This small nothing which...
Your shadows
In you, deadened, coiling itself hidden. In the meanders of your last years to dodge it....
« At the bottom of wood a vault dies »
On the being reduced way. Between the trees growing. Appears unimportant. The body of an...
Melancholy
Melancholy of the colors deer of the autumn. Strike my heart of an unhappiness which...
The door of blood
A glowing sky for a last hesitation of the day. Dying out on the door of blood. Before...
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
