“Midnight Maya” by Nikaee

You starred at the face and the face starred back. You know that, don’t you? Somewhere in the jungle there is someone caring the trees, waters and your laughters. Find it.

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“Midnight Maya” by Nikaee

In the depths of woods
Ancient warriors take care
For funny faces. (jf)

“Midnight Maya” by Nikaee

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“Midnight Maya” by Jessica Marisol Flores

A special honor to present a real Mayan artist. Jessica is Maya linguist, poet and artist and living in “Hell Salvador”. Take a look at the lands where your coffee and chocolate may come from.

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In my mayan night, I wish upon a star for my ancestors to bring, colorful kisses into this world made of steel.

“Midnight Maya” by Jessica Marisol Flores

Tlaloc will bring the rain over the corn field, so my people can feed from Xipetotec blessing and Metsi’s feels.

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“Midnight Maya” – Oliver Ritthaler

A programmatic work by Oliver. Is this Instagram criticism? Everyone should care a good breakfast, but share? And why are Mayan gods made of coffee and chocolate? The culture is global, but the food is individual. Let’s just break the bread and take a look inside.

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Ironically
Chocolate, coffee and fresh green
Are very mayan. (jf)

“Midnight Maya” by Oliver Ritthaler

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“Definition Of Blue” by Jonathan Falk

My work for topic of this month. Care the words, they act like darts.

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A teacher is taught
By pupils like life is lived
By dead. Ambitious. (jf)

“Definition Of Blue” by Jonathan Falk

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“Aquatic Rorschach” Rubén Darío Lombardozzi

We, the fishes…

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Sleep with the fishes
And tell me what you have dreamt
About and my part. (jf)

“Aquatic Rorschach” by Rubén Darío Lombardozzi

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“Broken Cornflower” by Nikaee

Why don’t we laugh into the face of daily struggle? Decisions are taking our energy, decisions may give it back. Waste your time on deciding, not on thinking.

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You have to decide
For wrong and right. Decision
Is only mission. (jf)

“Broken Cornflower” by Nikaee

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“Rupestre” by Eugenia Bellodi

In structures we live, but we need to break out. All that grew organicly will come back to us. We can’t destroy a thing, we are just scratching some surfaces.

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The corn that feeds soul
Is grown on fields of renounce
Under a black sun. (jf)

“Rupestre” by Eugenia Bellodi

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