i am a watcher...i am a reader...i am the root of the masses
it's time to brood on the hue of me
you can eat all you want....until what's left for you is sand....
i'll fed you with silence then
a stepped red rose stub....while the raven is passing through
don't blame the she shore and the tide
the dust you gather wont turn to gold...
Painting with projector on the 3rd workshop of Hemisphere Studio
words: Twisted Ican