big day tomorrow: Lara Piccirillo, a dear friend of mine, he graduated.
The topic of his thesis is very particular and opens a wealth of suggestions: voyeurism.
has started a blog full of wonderful ideas on the theme: Peeping Tom.
Some time ago I asked if I was going to throw something down leaving me inspired by the ideas of his thesis. I delayed until last night, but finally I have it (even though my scanner is not very faithful merciless ...):
I seriously put on a table far too long. One of the last times he was the poster Cremonapalloza Rock Fest. The designs that made it up to another, I gave them to Hillsong me and then they are reviewed around the world (a bit 'like the nano Amélie: D) inside the video documenting their tour in 2010 (approx. 4:35). Cool! :)
Returning to the thesis of voyeurism and Lara, my illustration is not the only homage: find a fertile narrative theme, I put the flea in his ear to my friend David C. Fragale and, as I had hoped, he pulled out Hot stuff. Among the many things he does, in fact, David writes - and writes well. Usually does not give her lyrics to the web, so we know that these five characters he described as rare stones are worth.
I close this post with his / my gift.
The topic of his thesis is very particular and opens a wealth of suggestions: voyeurism.
has started a blog full of wonderful ideas on the theme: Peeping Tom.
Some time ago I asked if I was going to throw something down leaving me inspired by the ideas of his thesis. I delayed until last night, but finally I have it (even though my scanner is not very faithful merciless ...):
I seriously put on a table far too long. One of the last times he was the poster Cremonapalloza Rock Fest. The designs that made it up to another, I gave them to Hillsong me and then they are reviewed around the world (a bit 'like the nano Amélie: D) inside the video documenting their tour in 2010 (approx. 4:35). Cool! :)
Returning to the thesis of voyeurism and Lara, my illustration is not the only homage: find a fertile narrative theme, I put the flea in his ear to my friend David C. Fragale and, as I had hoped, he pulled out Hot stuff. Among the many things he does, in fact, David writes - and writes well. Usually does not give her lyrics to the web, so we know that these five characters he described as rare stones are worth.
I close this post with his / my gift.
***
Mark
He enjoyed watching in the gorge, when people yawn. For him, those grooves were windows, we could see happen in the most important things in life, sometimes a strand of saliva could be a sign of a special event. If a soft and opened the curtains opened up the abyss, he leaned to take more than could the pink, red, darkness in the back, behind the uvula and into the tonsils - no teeth, not the interest, bricks were unnecessary, as the walls that made it impossible to look inside the houses. Once a girl opened her mouth so abnormal, it seemed that he was wrong - they were on the train - and he had nearly climbed over the seat to enjoy the view, he thought he could see a shed down there, such as beams and Fiberglass panels of some train stations, lower down, a move wet, black, dragon tapered, and lower still a white flesh, a protoplasmic be made of semen swallowed few days before, which is still held, is held in the world ...
When she closed the mouths of many secrets, he had already achieved what he sought, and somewhere down rubbed in my pants.
Ribes:
He loved the black butterflies, the black butterflies of all species. He loved to gather in large amounts and leave the house for free, free to fly in the furniture, plants, coming to rest on its food, but not out of the window, the windows were closed, had to be closed. She had put the papers on the windows, because he knew that the other side of the road in front of the building, there were dirty old that looked at. At times he feared that would send those spiders that have red-light observed as she sat on the toilet, or which would kill the butterflies. But it never happened.
When the butterflies died, she put us on tape very powerful. He went down the street and threw the air, like a bunch of flowers. Most of the time sadly fell on the sidewalk, where they were immediately torn to shreds by the shoes of passers-by, but in some cases one of the extinct care clung on the back of some unsuspecting pedestrian. Then she followed him wherever he / she would go (but better if it was him), followed him until he got home, or arrive in the evening. So often, she did an about-face and returned to his chores. Only sometimes followed the stranger and the throttle valve over the door, beyond the threshold of his house, as well as his secrets and killing all the spiders-red light that was.
Clenda:
Clenda light from holes in public toilets. Make large circles of blacks, more dense, around the slit lamp in the other, then on top of huge black mark writes: "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" in some cases, taken by an inner turmoil, she put all 'circle of circles around a series of vulgarity free blacks and imaginative. It happens when nobody uses the toilet with a hole, one side or the other, so she has written both walls, so that both processes are his.
But someone is always there. And she looks at them, but do not look down there , where all the action is, no, you look at them, their faces, their movements, if they speak for themselves, if you try, but most often prefer some have lost eyes, and the imagination soars.
Clenda not excited to do this, does not excite ever. Sex makes you fear, a child was told that by unloading processes, from the Turkish children are watching you dead.
Louis Centofanti:
"I am sick. Very sick. I can not stop watching this girl, I want to her breasts, her butt, I put my face on her belly, and I want to come to her in whenever I want to. I want to become pregnant forever, I want to marry her, I always hug her, walking with her. I want her smile forever, just for me, and I want you to hold me hand, and that I stuck it in his pants every time I want or she wants, and I want to make me yell and scream.
I want you to note. I want to stop watching from afar with binoculars the window of my room, that makes me gasp, it makes me die while I watch undress and take off her makeup, ready to sleep or get dressed and look good, ready for life. You know I would, but I just did not have the courage to go to her, and I'm pleased to have orgasm Pleiadians, who could not count, I can dream and she even knows I exist, I'd do anything for her.
I want. We kill for what I want.
'm sick, yes, but not as you think.
I am a voyeur? Maybe. But it is not my problem.
I said I want to hold her hand. Well, I have no hands.
hug? I can not. I miss her arms as well.
I can forget about me walk, my legs have fallen years ago, as my pea, killed by necrosis and finished on the floor, as a sad reminder. My orgasms are purely intellectual, believe me.
Even if I could never achieve its desire to more innocent, I caress her face. Fell apart years ago. necrotizing fascitis , diosolosa how can I be still alive.
I only have my binoculars on its pedestal, pointing always there for her, and my stool soft now that is my whole world. I would like this body rot completely, crumble, so I could fly from her, instead of sitting here, doing what no one knew to do: dream. "
Talpa
was blind and unbound. Nobody wanted it, and she did not want anyone. It gave time to time to go in certain rooms where the girls went with the girls, and liked to hear the moans, some jerks, and smells that wafted in the air, and then it felt good. Without emotions, but good. He felt sorceress, clever, terrifying and seductive woman. Every now and then made her sniff your fingers, those fingers occasionally crept behind the thick glasses who wore black on the nose, put your fingers into the empty sockets, jagged soft as strange caves, poking, once one of them, touching them, and poured liquid was everywhere, even on her wrinkles, then claims to do again and again. She gave it with a tender smile, but not for long, after a little 'feel the pain. And then the strangest thing: it felt wet. Not there, between her thighs, but right there in your eyes, and was not a contraction that beat inside, the thrill of pleasure?
called The Mole, out there, outside the enclosure, in the cruel and hypocritical world. But there, in her hell forbidden, it was better known as two steps. And all loved it.
He enjoyed watching in the gorge, when people yawn. For him, those grooves were windows, we could see happen in the most important things in life, sometimes a strand of saliva could be a sign of a special event. If a soft and opened the curtains opened up the abyss, he leaned to take more than could the pink, red, darkness in the back, behind the uvula and into the tonsils - no teeth, not the interest, bricks were unnecessary, as the walls that made it impossible to look inside the houses. Once a girl opened her mouth so abnormal, it seemed that he was wrong - they were on the train - and he had nearly climbed over the seat to enjoy the view, he thought he could see a shed down there, such as beams and Fiberglass panels of some train stations, lower down, a move wet, black, dragon tapered, and lower still a white flesh, a protoplasmic be made of semen swallowed few days before, which is still held, is held in the world ...
When she closed the mouths of many secrets, he had already achieved what he sought, and somewhere down rubbed in my pants.
Ribes:
He loved the black butterflies, the black butterflies of all species. He loved to gather in large amounts and leave the house for free, free to fly in the furniture, plants, coming to rest on its food, but not out of the window, the windows were closed, had to be closed. She had put the papers on the windows, because he knew that the other side of the road in front of the building, there were dirty old that looked at. At times he feared that would send those spiders that have red-light observed as she sat on the toilet, or which would kill the butterflies. But it never happened.
When the butterflies died, she put us on tape very powerful. He went down the street and threw the air, like a bunch of flowers. Most of the time sadly fell on the sidewalk, where they were immediately torn to shreds by the shoes of passers-by, but in some cases one of the extinct care clung on the back of some unsuspecting pedestrian. Then she followed him wherever he / she would go (but better if it was him), followed him until he got home, or arrive in the evening. So often, she did an about-face and returned to his chores. Only sometimes followed the stranger and the throttle valve over the door, beyond the threshold of his house, as well as his secrets and killing all the spiders-red light that was.
Clenda:
Clenda light from holes in public toilets. Make large circles of blacks, more dense, around the slit lamp in the other, then on top of huge black mark writes: "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" in some cases, taken by an inner turmoil, she put all 'circle of circles around a series of vulgarity free blacks and imaginative. It happens when nobody uses the toilet with a hole, one side or the other, so she has written both walls, so that both processes are his.
But someone is always there. And she looks at them, but do not look down there , where all the action is, no, you look at them, their faces, their movements, if they speak for themselves, if you try, but most often prefer some have lost eyes, and the imagination soars.
Clenda not excited to do this, does not excite ever. Sex makes you fear, a child was told that by unloading processes, from the Turkish children are watching you dead.
Louis Centofanti:
"I am sick. Very sick. I can not stop watching this girl, I want to her breasts, her butt, I put my face on her belly, and I want to come to her in whenever I want to. I want to become pregnant forever, I want to marry her, I always hug her, walking with her. I want her smile forever, just for me, and I want you to hold me hand, and that I stuck it in his pants every time I want or she wants, and I want to make me yell and scream.
I want you to note. I want to stop watching from afar with binoculars the window of my room, that makes me gasp, it makes me die while I watch undress and take off her makeup, ready to sleep or get dressed and look good, ready for life. You know I would, but I just did not have the courage to go to her, and I'm pleased to have orgasm Pleiadians, who could not count, I can dream and she even knows I exist, I'd do anything for her.
I want. We kill for what I want.
'm sick, yes, but not as you think.
I am a voyeur? Maybe. But it is not my problem.
I said I want to hold her hand. Well, I have no hands.
hug? I can not. I miss her arms as well.
I can forget about me walk, my legs have fallen years ago, as my pea, killed by necrosis and finished on the floor, as a sad reminder. My orgasms are purely intellectual, believe me.
Even if I could never achieve its desire to more innocent, I caress her face. Fell apart years ago. necrotizing fascitis , diosolosa how can I be still alive.
I only have my binoculars on its pedestal, pointing always there for her, and my stool soft now that is my whole world. I would like this body rot completely, crumble, so I could fly from her, instead of sitting here, doing what no one knew to do: dream. "
Talpa
was blind and unbound. Nobody wanted it, and she did not want anyone. It gave time to time to go in certain rooms where the girls went with the girls, and liked to hear the moans, some jerks, and smells that wafted in the air, and then it felt good. Without emotions, but good. He felt sorceress, clever, terrifying and seductive woman. Every now and then made her sniff your fingers, those fingers occasionally crept behind the thick glasses who wore black on the nose, put your fingers into the empty sockets, jagged soft as strange caves, poking, once one of them, touching them, and poured liquid was everywhere, even on her wrinkles, then claims to do again and again. She gave it with a tender smile, but not for long, after a little 'feel the pain. And then the strangest thing: it felt wet. Not there, between her thighs, but right there in your eyes, and was not a contraction that beat inside, the thrill of pleasure?
called The Mole, out there, outside the enclosure, in the cruel and hypocritical world. But there, in her hell forbidden, it was better known as two steps. And all loved it.
Tonight goodnight to all voyeurs ...
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