Tromagmenes Caryatids
That perpetual, deathly silence that has always existed within this tomb, broke. The thick, Iced soil had become one with the eyes and our chests, suddenly began to fall next from our cheeks. Seemed our faces, the endedymena bodies in detail, up and feet apokalyfthikane our fingers. The permanent darkness, who ever fell around, did you become light and color for the first time, After both, who knows, long. Who knows how far we are going for in this same attitude and situation, It's not as if we woke up our ever, It is as though we slept in sleep deep, eternal, by the same time who put us here, to support our heads with the weight of the dead. And even more surprising is that somehow we we ran out between dead and alive, Since we have never neither one nor the other, just never lived but not even know when we die with precision. It is as if our bodies are not their ever koynithikan, our hands will never spread as beyond, our eyelids stayed forever so, housing and kataplakwmena, you'd think that marmarwse from the outset our whole existence and that we exist ever so, trapped in a perpetual ankylosis started in then and never reaches the. Even so though, even if we covered from end to end the vast Earth countless aeons, already divided over us signs of wear, fronts cracked, lip cut in two, Maybe we tried once to move again, but we did not and we stayed forever to have given us so, human statues or, who knows, people agalmatenioi.
Panos Moychteros
Talking statues;
