the precent status of the random collaborations have long been sidetracking towards the edge of our mutual perception, things would have been more naïve if we did construct our foundation towards the imminent goal, our uncommon strive to reach what once was up on us will never really come back, the neon lights still glimmer at the secret church in the cellar of our betrodden inner vision of our external husk venturing towards the past, but directions is such a misleading way to say it, it would be more correct to say something like an image of self egoistic selfies of our unknown soul which shines like a rose bud ready to explode towards the centre of gravity at the end of the milky and white way we call our own spiral swiveling in any preferable direction you cannot foresee...