“White hair”

Tokio. The workshop is still almost immaculate. Only notes and some 110 KATANAS images. The story is finished, but applying reviews over reviews, the sadness is starting to show up.

“Stains”, still without stains, is merged with the computer. “Hats” prepares his trip and his arms for the new meeting and the new crazy hug. “The American” prowling around the workshop. Everyday a new drop of hate falls into the bottle containing my relationship with him, but he keeps hanging around the shop. In a new workshop even more hidden than before. The city where we are is non-existent, we do not see it, nor deserves it.

Tokyo, The Thirteen Moons, the eternal feminine, disappointment. The moon every night knocks on the window and denys sleep. Dead Moon. Dead Moon. Dead as the moon.

Faithful Katanas, lovers of the priestesses. Malefic Luz lover. Light of darkness. Moonlight. Light in the night, not blinding and flat light from the crushing sun. Silver light (light gray hair) only draws with long and mysterious shadows.


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