I run a lens over a canvas, to blossom flowers of emptiness and spread the fragrance of the dimensionless figure you handed over me in a crowded street of despair .
I own a pen, too, and hatch words of sorrow to fill my unbearable void… But I still miss, thousand miles away, to even frame the picture of your shadow.


About Mauro Metallo

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

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