This is yet another one of my uhm.. conceptual art kind of mix of language and visuals. Is it a poem? Or is it conceptual art. I don’t know really. I was not satisfied with type fonts I had on my computer.. so after some consideration I decided to make my own instead of trying to find a set that I would like.
The steel guides me
to the next station,
And outside the window,
quiet cornfields rush past.
A low sun shines
on green field-hands.
Their plastic shapes
sharp in the light.
Towards my destination,
dark rain fails.
Layers of grey and white,
float in from the sea.
It is suddenly fall
and i see this painting.
And I dream in your of your hand in mine.
And behind those clouds,
the skis blue, so vividly blue