Sitting besides the blue-ish river of Atlanta, Staring, the filled sky with grains, Glittering in the nights. He beseeches for a masterpiece.
She dies, to grope the time, for her beauty and infatuated life. She wants back, her little lilies, Petrichor, her small legs, and the buzzing noises, of flies and butterflies, the chirping birds, and the howling lives. she sits on her chair, for a couple of hours, an old flesh, with dusky clothes, a state… Continue reading Hiraeth
Some people can't see through fog, Some people can't see the fog. Some people can't see the love, Some lovers can't see some people. Some people can't see the nature, Some nature can't see the humans. Some people can't see the friendship, Some friends can't see some people. Some people can't walk in the rain,… Continue reading Some people can’t see some people