29 August 2012
The streets are not the same. They have changed considerably. Men lie in doorways, handwritten signs in front of them, selling parts of themselves. Not organs, no much more valuable and damaging. Tears. Tears for money, that bittersweet honey. Women walk past laughing at the broken shells paving the ground. Occasionally dropping pennies for a vile of the memories of love and happiness. The organic drug.
Future- Tears For Money • Opuss № I