"The only people for me are the mad ones.
The ones who are mad to live,
mad to talk, mad to be saved.
Desirous of everything at the same time.
The ones who never yawn or
say a commonplace thing,
but burn, burn, burn like fabulous,
yellow roman candles exploding
like spiders across the stars (....)"
Jack Kerouac
                                                                                                                             no esforço cotidiano de manter o frescor...


Young girl laying by Balthus