the violin had no strings, the bow rued on this fiery night when the winds rustled past it but he was grateful to the skies cried on his misery.
posted by sumanto at 5:57 PM | 0 comments
crucification at crossroads.
posted by sumanto at 1:30 AM | 0 comments
Mindless ramblings which come uninterrupted, unhindered, uninitiated
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