Today's New Modena. I was part of a ball almost always included in my iPod. Radiohead seem to play and paint this city of the plains. Perhaps it is the presence of an almost hysterical dislike wind. Or for your eyes. Which will rely on my hands tired, not far from what I have left more still live in our hearts. Modena is splendid in this sun light of a winter that is closing its doors. In this boundary painted by races and opposing you, baby. Acid colors that fade that blow violently in the back call-offs. It is no coincidence, I think, at some point I stop staring impassively from half a beer while singing Radiohead Lotus Flower. Track No. 5
a masterpiece. Then you're still you. Always. But I see little. Too soon to lose my eye in your.
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