Description
Often our eyes can be blind. But the soul feels everything, which means it sees everything
I wish you well.
Volcanos are sleeping in the back of the heart.
The planet is full of people,
But not all of them
The real ones.
Millions of dead eyes
And smiles from ear to ear.
Water is boiling in someone's sea,
And yours is infinitely dry.
The boundless steppe of longing.
A gloss night of separation.
From hand to hand - beeps,
Trains and cicadas sounds.
I remember,
How did you whisper: "I'm waiting"
I remember...
Your lips are trembling.
I've heard a lot of words in my life,
But not all of them The real ones.
On-chain
Market
Provenance
Collectors
