Peacee F Moya :: mouth for sore sight

Is it a deafening whisper ? why does suddenly air in the room growing in density and thickness - chamanic mantras in an industrial complex of wadding, felt and lead in fusion, Peacee F Moya takes you in a ballet, whose mechanism seems to have a curious tendency to leave in a dangerous inflationary spiral - the loss of control is inevitable and do not seek especially to hang to you to some illusory accent of flattering trumpet. But here now we are in the center of a “three exodic”, second act of a a ceremony whose central topic is to be played of our “doors of perception” - it just remains to be known if we are player in this open mouth for sore sight.

Format :: digital
Location :: test tube

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