I speak with you that you're staring at a blank page for hours without a sign, a concrete statement.
I feel I have something to give, I do not know if words or pictures, but I feel that there are, just do not know where.
certainly not about you, you're still there, white and intact and I hate you.
Now I hate you with all my might because you're making me suffer.
I feel explode but nothing comes out.
Fuck.
...
