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La forma en la que me miras no es lo típico; es algo místico.
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594. Victor Lundy /// Samuel S. Herron House /// Venice, Florida, USA /// 1957
OfHouses presents Record Houses, part II.
(Photos: © Phillip Harrington, Greg Wilson, Vienna & Naples. Source: “Architectural Record Houses of 1958″, Mid-May 1958.)
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Espen Surnevik Sivilarkitekt MNAL. Vacationhouse in Ryfylke. Norway. photos: Rasmus Norlander
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This chapter in my life is called Blossom.
It may sound out of context saying this, being in autumn. But not for me. Not for me because it’s the time where you spread all the romantic shit Once I said to you. Being in this mirror, in which I know you can finally Understand me, however I can feel your happiness, where your harm makes me feel warm in despite of shooting me back, pulling the trigger right to my chest. I cannot feel pain, no more. In contrast, I can feel you blossoming right from my place. I know that things now can be hard for you, but that’s not of my business.
Paths might be now in different ways, but my thoughts are with you as a memory, as an experience, Not as love and affection anymore.
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Ésta es la temporada de flores. Es el momento que siempre anhelaste. Ya no te respiro, pero lo hacía. Es por eso que es momento de cortarlas y dejarlas seguir sus huellas en el aire.
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