Le secret de la vie

There are still white shrouds, blue skies cannibalizing white puffs of cloud. A soundtrack on     antique canvas. On the other side of the world, familiar brush strokes pink bells hang in the salmon sky Like tattered-heart blood,     pumping. We are the grey night holding their soft song. Enigmatic echos, a memory of tragedy Perplexed, uneased.... Continue Reading →

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