Sounds are different as well as those who are counting my time.
So many cities have had my look straight into their deepest secret soul
So many cities my fingers have scratched in the night while waiting for a brand new day
This language tasting so different.
These streets still unknown, resembling a movie scene.
Walking under the pale light of the young hours you are a child again.
The very same emotions are pulsing into your veins
Collecting ancient dreams from nowhere
Shacking forgiven thoughts
Smoothing the memory of the past
Sharpening the taste of the present
Merging them all
Each time has its own color in the canvas of the life.
Stories and novels, stories and shades of words. Sapphire can be a voice, a whisper, a night talk. Colours in words, words merged and melted with pictures. Words as colours, words as shapes sometimes overlapping with the visual experience. A different way to see the world or, maybe, just the very same way using different tools and finding different paths.