שיר, תמונה ואוראלי.

There is beauty to be found in the saddest of moments.
Perhaps it is the enormity of the unknown coming into contrast with the despair of humanity.
The never ending struggle of flesh with his own fragility, trying to perfect himself to no effect, always in threat of being ripped apart by the dullest of blades.
Romanticism is nothing more than a graceful way to accept our human weaknesses, turn our dead into novels, our sickest urges into a on going conflict of morale decisions, yet in the end we are no more than the wind’s submissive leafs, trying to hold on to a greater will called god. But there is beauty in that.
There is beauty to be found in the darkest of moments, for it is there we become true humans, the most graceful creature to suffer, the swans of death