Once upon a time there was a place of open doors, where the looting and the shamelessness of strangers in search of lost scenes. If you dare and cross the threshold of the past where the suggestion confuses with your imagination, the present spectrum of the past appears.

They know and play with your memories and your mind, also with your respect. That you just played behind the door. Your deranged imagination provokes sensual scenes, poisoned curiosity of violence that scream that you go away from there.

Spectro Project

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