Nothing to turn off all these blue fires.
Nothing to dry us, way to the lighthouse.
Banks on trails, trails on cliffs and cliffs hit by the waves.
Green, white and powerful but insufficient.
Nothing to heal us.
We will believe we are cured, but we will only be old and tired.
Nobody to save us from ourselves.
Here, strolling together, next to the big noise.
Nothing to turn off all these blue fires.
Markers and collage on paper.
30 x 30 cm