look nuts on the table the fruits of autumn.
arise between fields and woods between encabits autumn colors and smells that we were leaving the rogues "Tempus Fugit", that's facetious and playful wrinkle engrogat landscape.
fruits of autumn, primitive feelings engalipen presences bonhomioses aixoplugades underwater announced by deafening thunder. The sun casts
patches of light among the branches of a tree s'esqueixa stubbornly against the silence of the autumn, because the wind has kidnapped tramontana piuladissa of birds seeking sensation refuge in warmer places. An old God
wild fruits that gave the children wake up every day under light grogenca autumn, and still walks on the colors of autumn tones and a bright sky.
the markets, the lawyer, the pawn go, the lady who lives with a cat, waiting eagerly to buy seasonal fruits, quince, pomegranates, lemons, fruit fall.
In the square, watch highlights of the nostalgia of old summers, and Saints of the church watching neighbors and strangers who cultivate faith in the depths of existence.
Autumn is a flood of colorful leave a child leaves school their mark on the leaves, which looks like the person looking the center of the world, the roar of a curiosity crish crash that left behind under the soles of their shoes.
Autumn is a pomegranate, a quince, a few lemons, which fitted with precision goldsmith some boxes of citrus smell.
The fruits of autumn marks the inexorable passing of time, hidden under the shade of a tree that has been forged with the energy of water immemorial.
These fruits of autumn, glowing in an exhibition and art lovers who look askance at the ear is kissing kisses and words.
PAINTING: Josep Maria CABAYOL
TEXT: MERCEDES LĂZARO
arise between fields and woods between encabits autumn colors and smells that we were leaving the rogues "Tempus Fugit", that's facetious and playful wrinkle engrogat landscape.
fruits of autumn, primitive feelings engalipen presences bonhomioses aixoplugades underwater announced by deafening thunder. The sun casts
patches of light among the branches of a tree s'esqueixa stubbornly against the silence of the autumn, because the wind has kidnapped tramontana piuladissa of birds seeking sensation refuge in warmer places. An old God
wild fruits that gave the children wake up every day under light grogenca autumn, and still walks on the colors of autumn tones and a bright sky.
the markets, the lawyer, the pawn go, the lady who lives with a cat, waiting eagerly to buy seasonal fruits, quince, pomegranates, lemons, fruit fall.
In the square, watch highlights of the nostalgia of old summers, and Saints of the church watching neighbors and strangers who cultivate faith in the depths of existence.
Autumn is a flood of colorful leave a child leaves school their mark on the leaves, which looks like the person looking the center of the world, the roar of a curiosity crish crash that left behind under the soles of their shoes. Autumn is a pomegranate, a quince, a few lemons, which fitted with precision goldsmith some boxes of citrus smell.
The fruits of autumn marks the inexorable passing of time, hidden under the shade of a tree that has been forged with the energy of water immemorial.
These fruits of autumn, glowing in an exhibition and art lovers who look askance at the ear is kissing kisses and words.
PAINTING: Josep Maria CABAYOL
TEXT: MERCEDES LĂZARO
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