This type of building is usually silent because it is so exquisite. At most they allow plants to grow, better if they are made of plastic. When they no longer look good, they are thrown away and replaced by others that do not stain. But buildings...
A fallen angel of immaculate whiteness. The clamp didn't catch it properly. Or the hand just threw it onto the rope. And there it is. Left, fallen, abandoned. But that pigeon lurking...
Male. Female. Him in shirt. She in panties. That's it. Of course, it could be that this man or woman is dressed like this. Maybe. In any case, both naked, both stepping on the same little towel. And no more space is needed. In any case....
They talk to themselves. They are talking to their own. Clotheslines, like cats, don't get on well with water. They prefer to stay sheltered from the rain and talk, they don't stop talking even when it rains, but with their hand, I mean with the window, in...
The white becomes immensely dirty white. The garment does not lie, it is defeated. Dull. There are moments when loneliness rhymes in free rhyme with abandonment....