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Just passing by

I walk the night

The city at night. Old and wrinkled. Ancient and grumpy. When the autumn sets in, the lights flicker in the wind and cold gusts sweeps dry leaflets across the cobblestones. The air is high and dry, filled whit smells of ice, moldering leafs and soil. For a moment you tell yourself that everything is okey. Then the feeling is gone, like it never existed. A phantom pain takes its place.

Av johanbergquist

There is art. There is color. There is paint. Or whatever. Basically it is about feelings. The strange movement whit in. No thoughts, no intellect, no theory. Just that instant moment when you know if you like. If you are intrigued. Moved. Touched. Or if you are indifferent.
Some of the pictures here are art. Some are just drawings. You will feel the difference. Or not. It's all up to you.
It's just pictures. But with any luck, some of them will give you a strange sense of magic.