The art of this town

She who stares at one point vacantly and the speck alone in the cafe of an open terrace is the art of this town. As for the mismatch with the color of the table displayed in the miscellaneous Turkish market where it is arranged like the naked moon in the construction of cafe of the Mediterranean Sea coast style and that as well, still that art doesn't become dirty. That is the sand of the red speck as much as giddiness in the dream that it was isolated in a perfection like the unexpected confession that the moon is just the satellite of the earth does. Or it is the slope where it is startled by the crevice between the crowded buildings which said very roughly and were filled loud. Then, she who is art rejects a blink absolutely. It is said that that will be presented to Mary crow which is that great compatriot after it went through the evening sun in the world with those eyes that God was taken and the pretty necklace of a part was taken. I agreed with that, too. Then, that was told to her in the mouth, but it did. She knew that. It is for she didn't move a little so that one might not stop being art.