The city never seemed so impersonal. Where ever you go, you always enter feeling like a stranger, and roam around the room while eyes gaze at your new born presence. The wind is cold, and your drenched in city rain accompanied of sirens and insults across the road. You enter an empty space full of empty bodies with empty minds and empty glasses. Nobody knows about you. Nobody cares. So it all remains the same.
I discovered this artist called Christain Schad, one of those findings that you claim admiration to.
We spoke about, and i hope youll speak about them as well.
The act of "falling in love" is more beautiful than being in love.
So then why fall in love? why not keep yourself in the vicious circle of "falling"
And what happens when you cant get up anymore?
Today is the greyest day London could give to us.