Monkey are swinging by aquasixio
Night, like a long boring and meandering river,
streams with toys, garbages and frail candels,
accross a deep interwined jungle strewn of books,
until the alarm melody turns off the faucet.
Some parts of the film are drawn but you neglect
the actors of this romance without nigthmare.
And every nights this is the same dance,
dreamwatchers are caring of you in silence.
Even Sigmund Freud didn't know about it,
monkeys are swinging over the mind's stream.
Any flames will go out or sink this night,
any of your dreams will get limits tomorrow.
And they are more than hundred like this
on the gloomy road of the inconsciousness,
insomniac keepers of your precious treasures,
these children working in association for peanuts.
And when you are sleeping sweetly in your sheets,
on the stage, the paradoxical show is still playing.
Monkeys are swinging during your slumber,
in a jungle called Third World or Elsewhere.
You are like me, you forgot where you are from,
how you obtained everything you enjoy and waste,
and, like you, I will sleep tonight, proud of golden life,
while monkeys are swinging on this unfair dance.
Sweet dreams are made of this. Good night.
Time: 38 hours
Software : Photoshop CS 2
Tools: Wacom tablet