Nagiko: The smell of white paper is like the scent of skin of a new lover who has just paid a surprise visit out of a rainy garden. And the black ink is like lacquered hair. And the quill? Well, the quill is like that instrument of pleasure whose purpose is never in doubt but whose surprising efficiency one always, always forgets.
Today, I propose you to travel into me. Then, I wish you to travel alone. And, at the end… tell me your story.
[The ‘game’ is quite simple… i'm just catching (mine-your) imagination. I’ll catch an image and then I'll translate you, in words, what it makes me feel (or just the other way). But I wonder what you’ll be thinking of, when you see them? What you're feeling… because, after all, it is only my point of view, just words of mine. I wonder where you’ll be traveling with them and it would be perfect if you could bring something back into me. I wonder if you-we can?]
Nagiko: The smell of white paper is like the scent of skin of a new lover who has just paid a surprise visit out of a rainy garden. And the black ink is like lacquered hair. And the quill? Well, the quill is like that instrument of pleasure whose purpose is never in doubt but whose surprising efficiency one always, always forgets.
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ReplyDeleteolá amaral... bem vindo!
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