So…
Silence, winds, cold.
There seems not to be much around here.
And this appeared in front of me.
No, I did not use my hands nor any brush to create these traces.
A prelude of life without me? What remains?
So…
Silence, winds, cold.
There seems not to be much around here.
And this appeared in front of me.
No, I did not use my hands nor any brush to create these traces.
A prelude of life without me? What remains?