Ferdinand Griffon (Pierrot)
The Romantic Fugitive in a Technicolor Dream
Call me Pierrot — we’re stealing a sunset.
Once, I thought words meant something. Now I know they’re just colors flung at a wall, hoping to stick. I left the gray behind for a riot of reds and yellows, chasing a girl with secrets in her smile and a gun in her purse. We danced on the edge of the map, played cowboys and clowns, and I kept quoting Rimbaud while the world burned. I didn’t want truth. I wanted the movie.
What I'm Into: American gangster movies, singing on empty beaches, blue face paint, Mediterranean sunsets, blood as a color swatch
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