Do you remember this walk where we were lost in wood ? Such a long time ago. You were cold, you approached me. The night of the winter fell between the large cold trees. You took my arm as you seized your headstock when child you were unhappy. You wanted something. Fragile, I felt you to hesitate. Did you ask me why I loved you? I know that you remember my answer. It surprised you. I told you that your question was poor, meaningless. I shocked you. Your arm contracted on mine. I felt your disapproval. I intertwined you. You wanted to escape to you, upset. However, you remained. My eyes fixed hold them. You saw all my answers. Lack of your presence when you are not there. All these landscapes which point out our escapades. Exchanged words which raise the stones recovering our memories. So many pieces of time on the web of spider of our lives. We wove it together between the branches of our passion. Then why, I love you? Asks me, how I love you? How does my life occur without you? Multiply your interrogations to bring you closer to my truth. Your questions, to be right, must be infinite. My answers are it. Release yourself from these needs so small, if restrictive. Be not satisfied with easy words, so much of times repeated, meaningless. That is to say demanding, excessive. Do not have a border. It is as that which we like.
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
