All The Time In The World
Building A Paradise
Looking in the shades of her smile is to see that she is coming from a new promise island today. And that’s a true love to a life in a destiny.
Of that, the sight of the “Mika Towers” is bright in a new promise of a light of the aloha spirit in a new day.
This is how I can see the milestones in the artwork with color done by the sun. It is laughter in a prayer.
I saw her standing there. It was in our streets. That they are deserted everywhere. Totally designed for a holiday. As it is to say, true as I believe, it’s a long way to see. The buildings are as they are. Standing in there between the two sides of the block in the life of the community.
That it is what a miracle I can actually say to achieve that the smile is to say that says to me. Because, she is free. So please listen, and see. It’s all about all the time in the world to me.
About the Creator
Paul Noel Cimino
I am a spontaneous spiritual artist
I seek to find answers in the art and writing I create.
I like to express it to my heart and make it come true.
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Mika of Morioka
Love is the splendor of the music all around. And she is in the sound of the music coming down. So it is of a splash of golden sound. All that is to be told with a splash of gold. Truly so it is told with a color of art and of sound. That is with art or is it with color or of sound? That it is in the echo of the colors of the town. It is with a Devine devotion of the town of Morioka. And it is in the splendor of a song with the art of colors with the music of the Mika sound.
By Paul Noel Cimino3 years ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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