Lying on a cold white bed, this shit seems to smile down from a higher wisdom attained in the final moment. Life and death: these two words, opposites and conflicting for us men, for a humble dung almost coincident in time, but still quite distinct. This is our way to expand the short time that came to light escapes from our stools to their demise. And I like to imagine that the light left in the photo is that of providence finally came to light this little life, too late soon toltaci etroppo came to us by fate. Requiescat in pacem, guardalamiamerda
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