Remember the times we used to play?
We’d sing and we’d dance all damn day…
Now all I do, is sing the blues.
S’extasier… devant des petit dessins de Manara.
Berlin streets… can’t buy me love.
Street art berlinoise.
Quarto Oggiaro loves Berlin. Me too.
Berlin by its posters #1
She had black thick short hair, revealing the back of her neck. The slim, well-shaped neck had a pale moonlight glow, like she had been daubed with powder using a soft brush.
The place was oddly hushed except for the cries of cicadas. The midsummer sun beat down the earth but in the room the light was dull and stagnant, as in a transient place.
She seemed to be part of an imaginary painting of Caravaggio.