The mad proliferation of the wind gives the trees strange outlines. The wet thread of our slumber ruptures in the night. The hand plunges into the beg
The mad proliferation of the wind gives the trees strange outlines. The wet thread of our slumber ruptures in the night. The hand plunges into the beginning of the fire. The burning entrails of the fields suddenly appear at dawn. Here man is alone. In this loneliness, the shadow of sugar cane flows into eternity.
