see that my grave is kept clean

entry picture

you're gonna reap just what you sow

a satellite of love

two white doves

what are the chances

I don't know,

I've never known

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

An echo of a ghost of a different

Kinder world somehow, somewhere.

Maybe I can afford to hope.




◄ Wild

The kalash ►


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