Written in a эстетика ебеней (place where the sun is exiled) during 33 consecutive nights of bloodmoon. With an unusual structure, both in the poem's architecture and also for the artistic images they refer to. The book presents itself as an experiment, combining exhibition and poetry; making it unique in its form. A funeral march, as romantic as it is macabre, dedicated to the death of a soul, a fantasy, whose flesh still grows around like rust. In addition to the photographs and words maded the author, there are works realized by Hiroshi Sugimoto, Oskar Schlemmer, Brock Enright and others.(as an elegy and homage to some outsider artists and not). "Wherever, the excess of enmity is a coarse kiss, and when happened to have our lips engaged, addicted, we sniffed with eyes, only to revive in the flashes of storms; a glare's cleansing, blinding moments. Giving a measure to your beauty, useless in itself, holed up in rumpled jeans, stiff joints in constant struggle with the mind; then you looked at the moon and the rigidity was no longer visible. Wonderful grimace now lost in the world; no longer know how to look for you, still have the knowledge but not the discipline. The smell is still alive, but it comes from a carcass; storms do not blind the intentions of wounds anymore, they entertain you with the idea of shelter, an illusion that has no reflection in the mirrors of rain."