Charbel HaberMay a soft sun bless your sky while you wait for the inevitable

This show starts in the future

One last stroll in the garden of light

Phosphorus resting by the entrance of a quantic maze

Across a flower bed, dressed in Sunday best, lay the bodies of docile beasts

I stutter when I speak of love and death

The unfortunate meeting of an accident and the goddess of time on a dissecting table

An infinity of pixelated seas under an infinity of pixelated suns

This show ends in the past