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Nights are hidden days beyond our minds. But some remain like flying shadows reshaping the naive images of our lives. Faces hurt with emptiness, characters petrified in silence, lands inked with blood....And we become sleepy, carelessly dying, until morning happens.

A Noite Saiu à Rua
May 8, 1987 · 4m
Nights are hidden days beyond our minds. But some remain like flying shadows reshaping the naive images of our lives. Faces hurt with emptiness, characters petrified in silence, lands inked with blood....And we become sleepy, carelessly dying, until morning happens.