shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Peycho Kanev



Three men slowly walk along the road
in different times in their own

The first man with his head bowed
breathes in the dust of dying hours
and keeps walking

The second one with hands in
his pockets digs between the holes
for his lost memories

The third one is a sleepwalker and he
drinks from the moon her hatred towards
the sun

And I stand in the corner of the room
and frantically look for the candle
in front of the coming darkness