turbulences monochromes

𝗅𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗎𝗏𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖻𝖾
𝗌’𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌
𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗃𝖾 𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝗎𝗌
𝗈𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗌
𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝗑
𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝖾
𝗆’𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗌𝖾
𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾́𝖼𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖽𝖾 𝗅𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾
𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗎 𝖻𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂
𝗅𝖾𝗌
𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌
𝖽𝖾
𝗅’𝗁𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾
𝗊𝗎𝗂
𝗋𝗂𝗍