Sometimes and at most times, the best of scenic bonjour is confined outside our urban vendetta. Flying high, with poise and painted with blue.
It’s not the stature that always counts. It’s the attempt to touch the sky that evokes a cacophony of myriad ruptures. Like, fugitives in search of salvation. Like, mortals reaching out to immortals. I like the canvas, what urges brilliance is the modus operandi.