Love, is sometimes a simpler form of slowly dying, it’s like a bullet that ricochets off time’s walls of desire, waiting to hit that picture perfect heart of regrets.

– Anthony Liccione –

Ph : Javier Vallhonrat

Imagine being sentient but not alive.

Seeing and even knowing, but not alive.

Just looking out. Recognizing but not being alive.

A person can die and still go on.

Sometimes what looks out at you from a person’s eyes maybe died back in childhood.

– Philip K. Dick – A Scanner darkly

Ph : Sarah Moon