A bridge is a church, when it is stretching its long pillars across the vertical life of an eye that is leaning towards the neck, leaning into the brain of someone, who is watching a bridge.
That eye is part of a person, who says: I cannot rest, while we are crossing this great bridge. It is beautiful, but its pillars are so big, I’m so scared, I could die.
Another part of that person is not frightened. It says: I want to travel and go to Africa. I want safaris and hunting and life.
That’s why, it is church.
mandag den 14. april 2008
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smukt!
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