The perch of the osprey on the rapids
Bronze Age trumpet
Restless melody
Hanging above the abyss
by Transrome
The porcelain will fall from the table
There is no way to judge the temperature of a cup of tea
I also had no choice but to predict that a pot of wine would pass through the intestines
The Eight Immortals table could not hold the tea cup wine bottle, and the woman was far away
I can't remember the meaning of the other person dancing and smashing the bottle
Ants crawled over the skin of my chest
Mother Earth supports everything, it looks like
This gentle and subdued frivolity is coming to an end
Restless cello
In the evening, a seven- or eight-year-old boy downstairs
Keep hitting the rhythm with the basketball, and next door will
Then came a period of Yo-Yo Ma, a scattered window
I've loved and hated it like that
After I came out of the shower
The world is clear
Prajnaparamita Temple is on the same road as emptiness
They maintain a posture, no one
Explain more, and your cheeks are immersed in bliss
Until the copier starts copying out the emoticons, the operator
The palm of the hand gradually softened, and there was a horse nibbling
The machine spewed out white paper, and I bent down several times to clean it
They did not hurry to become debris, and heather tore at the blue sky fiercely
Extravagant hope leaves scars that are difficult to heal, and spring puts sullen
Categories, after ambiguous relationships, are counted as fate
I devour the desolation here
Except for the railway line, spilled mud blocks
There was something else, and just then the light came with it
As deep and lonely as the darkness, the train emitted a violent one
Coughing, we sweated like rain before unloading half a column of coal
So far away from decadence, steel will rust
The grey sparrows on the roof of the coal shed were cheering for lust
I feel the smell of dopamine
Often the beginning of the year begins shortly, intended for the remaining days
Why grieve inexplicably? This is the last spear
Sometimes it perches in the hands of prey, preparing for murder
I asked again to put aside the other way out of two-dimensional space
Artist | Works by Giorgio Celin
The copyright of the artwork belongs to the artist himself