“Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings were we had shoulders smooth as raven’s claws … ” James Douglas Morrison

Between childhood, boyhood, adolescence and manhood (maturity) there should be sharp lines drawn with tests, deaths, feasts, rites, stories, songs and judgements.

It hurts to set you free but you’ll never follow me …

This was the end …

The end of laughter and soft lies …

Let me tell you about heartache and the loss of God !

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings were we had shoulders smooth as ravens’s claws …
… or black demons … red and black, but stil, mostly black … [Good morning, Sunshine ! ]

Da, Omul-lada-de-gunoi, un spectacol pe masura serii, un spectacol pe masura … evenimentului … ironic, ha?

… it’s just a dream, Jimmy, just a dream …

I’ll always
be a word-man
better than a
bird-man

No safety …

I’ll never look into your eyes (again) …

Desperatly in need of some stranger’s hand in a desperate land …

I touched her thigh and Death smiled …

Would you die for me ?

I had a trip …

Father – Yes, son – I want to kill you.

The end of nights we tried to die … This is the end …