The song played on repeat for many months. The first mournful strains throttled the quiet by the sickly blueish light of a laptop in a pitch black room. A picture of a brown-haired prisoner with a lungful of rose petals wept motionlessly in the backdrop. Impatience takes the form of binocular stalking. Despite significant self-control and the focus of simple, silent sitting. The song kept playing, and was no less beautiful with it's songbird strings.
10:46 p.m. - 2016-03-16
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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