Irene

Irene hangs her rags in the sun, lending mysteries to the afternoon of scandalous panties and nosy sheets... Irene hangs her soul on the balcony and the wind, indiscreet, explores it, resurrecting chubby and chatty shapes... Irene swinging on the wires.
Irene inviting me to meet her, challenging me... I don't understand how you can pass by and not see her... Irene hangs her rags in the sun and something in me gets fragrant and stretches, playing guessing games and puzzles. Irene swinging on the wires. Irene inviting me to meet her, challenging me... I don't understand how you can pass by and not see her...