by Octavian Balea
There where the engines roar and metal bends under the heavy weight presses, wind gets isolated in dark catacombs. This is the machine that builds up the catacombs. A complicated machine that builds up a system of wind catacombs. A machine with many eyes and a lot of buttons, a machine with a ghostly presence among people that builds up endless networks of wind.
The wind is metalic.












No comments:
Post a Comment