Indifferent to clarity, its light an exhausted prisoner of the atmosphere. A soul sits on edge, waiting for a flicker, waiting to ignite, hoping to borrow some of the fullness, some of the hidden light. LE
Indifferent to clarity, its light an exhausted prisoner of the atmosphere. A soul sits on edge, waiting for a flicker, waiting to ignite, hoping to borrow some of the fullness, some of the hidden light. LE
