With eyes like small children, small, scurrying just watching this carnival of us adults, the world we get along. What this must seem
sarabande in the eyes of a child.
faces.
noises.
Objects.
This way.
of the '.
We and our cases.
barely gray when we can not make trouble.
Children looking giants. Maybe
properties.
looking for songs and dreams, big eyes to dive into and get lost. They hatch in the heart
grandiose projects.
talk to the stars and water.
They laugh at us poor Harlequins scurrying between one hundred masters.
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