Tragedy, evil premonition of moonless night and sunless morning.
Black and abyssal hole in which plunge shameless our lost souls and eager to make a spell to our sordid destinies.
Let's forget the dull days of winter and summer and head-on dives in a dark world that lasers would light up with their pastel beams, intermittently, to the beat of our hearts, which remain, despite the lightning, our most precious organs.
That being said, Saturday, May 18, we will be one, be monstrous of a crazy beauty that will dance until exhaustion in a secret palace at the gates of Paris, shed with black walls and dirty with our sweats, bitter and acids like the music we love.
Appointment to Saint Ouen. Where the city has not forgotten its history and the bodies find their resolutions.