On the crumbling edge of reality


I drift in my own world, falling into my own darkness, facing my own demons… An aching love clogs the arteries, suffocating my naive heart, and the charcoal face of solitude silently bites my hand. Depression takes over; my body turns numb and I wish time away, while I sleepwalk through reality dreaming in black and white with my eyes open. I’m an obscure artist: I glance at a vacant frame, then shoot words and write down pictures, pure metaphors for all kinds of dreams I may not know the name of; for life at its most intense; for Poetry.

And I’m alive again, at least for a short while…


About Mauro Metallo

A Writer and Photographer equally at home in Italy and in Canada.

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