It’s like being in a Story written by Charles Perrault. Walking on a lake shore. Early in the morning. When the sun is still pale. And around there are not many people. Sit on a bench thinking. Watching the water and its movements. Feel a slight warmth on the skin. Rays of spring sunshine They looks like a hand that stroke you, Lovingly and kindly. The face Arms Skin. So stay there. Motionless No need to do anything. No need…
A freezing cold Day in Camden Town, but warmth comes within the Heart and soul of onès desires, mine include cult DVDs and PoP memorabilia and friendly conversation. And here We are, an Emporium of obscurity. As soon as We arrive We say our greetings and quickly delve into a conversation about subjects one feels the mainstream do not ponder – maybe subjects like T-REX and Fellini do not fit into the scheme of things. And there We stood, four…