Your cart: 
paul piché
Just before closing the door, he asked himself what it was he was forgetting. He checked his pockets to understand that what he was missing was not his guitar or whatever medication was used to relieve suffering or pass the time. All the while descending the stairs slowly, only to go back up again, and not knowing why he was going forwards. He was confused, because little did he know that what he was missing what something inside of himself. He felt alone like a river abandoned by children. Poor Paul, maybe he should have taken the elevator.
Product: paul piché
