Am I a fée? Dust? Or just a plastic flower for the dead?
The eerie grayness of the low skies hold my eyes tight in a wondering soul.
Who are they? That ended there at the small hilly cemetery of Cercal?
Happy young children never allowed to grow a full body?
Large lonely widows stomach full of sorrows?
A young man at war brave only at his death?
A communist believer hammer and sickle strong against the Christian cross?
My husband woke me up from my reverie…
Was it the oddness of the plastic flowers that seized my soul into their sinking world?
I know from the photographs that some of it is true.
Look! Look at the eerie plastic flowers!
Fotos de Manuel Rosário
Música: Travel, Lounge Lizards