1980I am taking my way towards to the Lamarch, the Portraits under my arm
are crumpled . I am looking for a front of a last century Montmartre.
Drawing,writing,reading on the cold Streets,
cleaning with Kerouach. Does not created dreams.
Hookers around the corner, waiting...
I didn`t want to get out of my mind.
Just, trying to deal with a reality, everyday.
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