At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
Very colorful with a dash of violence.
It all started that one day I was coming out of the bakery with my freshly baked baguette when suddenly, without having but a second to notice, a total stranger ran straight into me (he was walking damnly fast), not even looking back, he kept walking ahead, quickly moving away like nothing ever happened.
Resulting in my freshly baked baguette lying in a puddle of water.
That encounter turned what ought to be a delicious crispy on the outside and soft on the inside baguette into a sad, wet and soggy piece of wasted bread. And as well, planted the imaginary grain that would flourish and would become this collection.
I remember that one day, a grandmother, or what surely seemed like one at the time was walking down the big avenue right around the barbershop I used to get my hair and moustache trimmed. As I was sitting there in my comfortable leather chair with the barber taking care of the edges of my whiskers, the old lady sat on a bench perpendicular to the window shop, from my chair I could see her perfectly, she was feeding birds. After a while and having been freshened up I came out the shop and as I started walking away I stopped for a second to have a final look at the lady, during that second she slowly lifter her head, turned it towards me and articulated those words "Not everything comes to those who deserve it." she smiled with her eyes closed for a second and went back to feed the bird. To this day I think about that moment, what it meant ? I don't know, but there it is.
And boy that hurts.
At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
Very colorful with a dash of violence.
It all started that one day I was coming out of the bakery with my freshly baked baguette when suddenly, without having but a second to notice, a total stranger ran straight into me (he was walking damnly fast), not even looking back, he kept walking ahead, quickly moving away like nothing ever happened.
Resulting in my freshly baked baguette lying in a puddle of water.
That encounter turned what ought to be a delicious crispy on the outside and soft on the inside baguette into a sad, wet and soggy piece of wasted bread. And as well, planted the imaginary grain that would flourish and would become this collection.
I remember that one day, a grandmother, or what surely seemed like one at the time was walking down the big avenue right around the barbershop I used to get my hair and moustache trimmed. As I was sitting there in my comfortable leather chair with the barber taking care of the edges of my whiskers, the old lady sat on a bench perpendicular to the window shop, from my chair I could see her perfectly, she was feeding birds. After a while and having been freshened up I came out the shop and as I started walking away I stopped for a second to have a final look at the lady, during that second she slowly lifter her head, turned it towards me and articulated those words "Not everything comes to those who deserve it." she smiled with her eyes closed for a second and went back to feed the bird. To this day I think about that moment, what it meant ? I don't know, but there it is.
And boy that hurts.
At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
At the very brink of everyday life, you ever think about going kung-fu master style on that one person next to you at the cafe that has its speakers at a sound of 17 out of 5 on the Richter scale of sismic bullsh*t annoying music ?
Very colorful with a dash of violence.
It all started that one day I was coming out of the bakery with my freshly baked baguette when suddenly, without having but a second to notice, a total stranger ran straight into me (he was walking damnly fast), not even looking back, he kept walking ahead, quickly moving away like nothing ever happened.
Resulting in my freshly baked baguette lying in a puddle of water.
That encounter turned what ought to be a delicious crispy on the outside and soft on the inside baguette into a sad, wet and soggy piece of wasted bread. And as well, planted the imaginary grain that would flourish and would become this collection.
I remember that one day, a grandmother, or what surely seemed like one at the time was walking down the big avenue right around the barbershop I used to get my hair and moustache trimmed. As I was sitting there in my comfortable leather chair with the barber taking care of the edges of my whiskers, the old lady sat on a bench perpendicular to the window shop, from my chair I could see her perfectly, she was feeding birds. After a while and having been freshened up I came out the shop and as I started walking away I stopped for a second to have a final look at the lady, during that second she slowly lifter her head, turned it towards me and articulated those words "Not everything comes to those who deserve it." she smiled with her eyes closed for a second and went back to feed the bird. To this day I think about that moment, what it meant ? I don't know, but there it is.
And boy that hurts.
