It's not a beautiful picture, it's not even a poignant picture. It's just a woman who sells clothes and actually I don't even know if she stitched them by herself. Let it simple be an attachment to this lines.
Surely it was a hazard. I got this picture few days after the Election. But in this days any simple thing seems to be a sign just appeared to remind me of the indescribable and hidden decadence of me and the milieu I raised in. I forgot or unconsciously ignored that beside a lot of liberties (wich of course are indespensable for a reasonable satandard of living) perhaps at the same time there should be a mind free of worries about surviving (quiet undramatic) the next years.
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