The unimagined complexity of everyone's place, strolling, walking, appearing everywhere with the sole pretense of marking a point in our lives. What's the point, or what's the shape of our colour, our complex sense of being in one point, written.The yellow light is one of there, I know it is, for the only reason I have never seen it elsewhere. It is theirs for an unimagined reason.
Talán mert soha kikapcsolták a fény ott...
(maybe because they never switched the light off there)
Shh... Listen!Fekete-Kovács Kornél
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