small skylight. Choice of information. Contrails advertisements. And in this stream, one m'abasourdit them.
We are the land of images, words deliberately chosen scenarios carefully scaffolded. Forget your nose and play.
A room for baby blue boy
Lying on a bed, a terrible machine.
a teenager.
Mechanics boiling permanent. Stuffed hormones exerted yoyo. Odor
baby yesterday. In the morning by some unknown alchemy nocturnal atmosphere of the Wild.
Mom tumbling into the room. Closeup on face crumpled, pinched nose, chin wrinkled. Then, the next peak indices.
socks scattered wilted in the corners, which we imagine the miasma filthy prisoners cotton twisted accordion. In contrast, of course, shoes, thrown to wild across the room or fallen at the foot of the bed, when the teenager exploded fatigue, found the strength to swing his soft basketball, with its big toe wrapped in sweat, pressed on the heel. Ottoman on the floor. Upside down, soles finally free to disseminate widely molecules sour yeast lukewarm, and cabbage acid.
The camera rotates, quickly skims the furniture pastel blue. Chairs, chair and convenient. Placed randomly, T-shirts anointed the sweat of the sporting achievements of the offspring, traces of mud, grass, and skinny pants on too short. On the carpet, bits of paper and various colored: bombec, crisps and caramel, a can lying, empty and forgotten, where a drop pearl rigid sugar dried. On the shelves of a library, unidentified objects, but that issue probably nauseating waves. On the desktop, where hang some school notebooks, bits of chewed gum, markers and pencils worn open. Finally, on the table and around a trash can in a state of indigestion, pellets crumpled paper.
My God! What a stinking racket. What a mess olfactory unacceptable! Will you "clean your room smells! "Looking bewildered
the teen.
endless and fragile body. Long hair. Potato nose. Sullen mouth: "Well ... what? Clean my room smells? "
" Yes, especially since you'll be the visit! "Shame ...
intimate odors lurking.
paring and fetid films.
scent of dreams or nightmares, released during the night.
Hints of privacy of a young boy who breathes, sleeps, books, dance, irritated, vegetate, screams, sings, eats in his room / pad / cave / hut.
The miasma of daily life, carefully secreted over the vagaries of the intimate mechanism that somehow draw a label to become man. An area marked, scratched, staff, who slowly develops. The voice of a young boy moved. Its smell too. The result often derails, for serious and treble. Distortions, sometimes strange atmosphere.
The mother shakes the room. No longer recognizes the smell of her toddler. Her baby.
"We need you clean your room smells" you it again.
Bleach will not be enough. Open the windows no more. It is absolutely necessary to obtain a magical product, a single cure that destroys, wraps, annihilates all these invisible fluids and plied, infiltrating everywhere. "Look, but look at my child, my baby, all these smells dirty, distorted everything! "Dust
. Rub. Brush. Clean and polish odor. Restore its original brilliance, his clear lacquer, his virtuous air of cleanliness.
Mom brandishes a bottle gun, feel anything fragrant to the universal, and sprayed the atmosphere infamous.
Dézinguées odors private.
atomize perfume skin. Furniture
blue watercolor, discarded clothes, lost sweat now industrial agent "flowers emerging" or "morning dew" enriched bouloteur odor rebels (a pinch of cyclodextrin), which issues the sliders to zero.
It's simpler.
And everything, yes everything, obviously ... will return to normal.
We are the land of images, words deliberately chosen scenarios carefully scaffolded. Forget your nose and play.
A room for baby blue boy
Lying on a bed, a terrible machine.
a teenager.
Mechanics boiling permanent. Stuffed hormones exerted yoyo. Odor
baby yesterday. In the morning by some unknown alchemy nocturnal atmosphere of the Wild.
Mom tumbling into the room. Closeup on face crumpled, pinched nose, chin wrinkled. Then, the next peak indices.
socks scattered wilted in the corners, which we imagine the miasma filthy prisoners cotton twisted accordion. In contrast, of course, shoes, thrown to wild across the room or fallen at the foot of the bed, when the teenager exploded fatigue, found the strength to swing his soft basketball, with its big toe wrapped in sweat, pressed on the heel. Ottoman on the floor. Upside down, soles finally free to disseminate widely molecules sour yeast lukewarm, and cabbage acid.
The camera rotates, quickly skims the furniture pastel blue. Chairs, chair and convenient. Placed randomly, T-shirts anointed the sweat of the sporting achievements of the offspring, traces of mud, grass, and skinny pants on too short. On the carpet, bits of paper and various colored: bombec, crisps and caramel, a can lying, empty and forgotten, where a drop pearl rigid sugar dried. On the shelves of a library, unidentified objects, but that issue probably nauseating waves. On the desktop, where hang some school notebooks, bits of chewed gum, markers and pencils worn open. Finally, on the table and around a trash can in a state of indigestion, pellets crumpled paper.
My God! What a stinking racket. What a mess olfactory unacceptable! Will you "clean your room smells! "Looking bewildered
the teen.
endless and fragile body. Long hair. Potato nose. Sullen mouth: "Well ... what? Clean my room smells? "
" Yes, especially since you'll be the visit! "Shame ...
intimate odors lurking.
paring and fetid films.
scent of dreams or nightmares, released during the night.
Hints of privacy of a young boy who breathes, sleeps, books, dance, irritated, vegetate, screams, sings, eats in his room / pad / cave / hut.
The miasma of daily life, carefully secreted over the vagaries of the intimate mechanism that somehow draw a label to become man. An area marked, scratched, staff, who slowly develops. The voice of a young boy moved. Its smell too. The result often derails, for serious and treble. Distortions, sometimes strange atmosphere.
The mother shakes the room. No longer recognizes the smell of her toddler. Her baby.
"We need you clean your room smells" you it again.
Bleach will not be enough. Open the windows no more. It is absolutely necessary to obtain a magical product, a single cure that destroys, wraps, annihilates all these invisible fluids and plied, infiltrating everywhere. "Look, but look at my child, my baby, all these smells dirty, distorted everything! "Dust
. Rub. Brush. Clean and polish odor. Restore its original brilliance, his clear lacquer, his virtuous air of cleanliness.
Mom brandishes a bottle gun, feel anything fragrant to the universal, and sprayed the atmosphere infamous.
Dézinguées odors private.
atomize perfume skin. Furniture
blue watercolor, discarded clothes, lost sweat now industrial agent "flowers emerging" or "morning dew" enriched bouloteur odor rebels (a pinch of cyclodextrin), which issues the sliders to zero.
It's simpler.
And everything, yes everything, obviously ... will return to normal.
0 comments:
Post a Comment