Greys and black

Elis has a paper ball texture, crisp and crumpled veins of love. Her nakedness is the march towards the fruits of springs, countless motions of time. Her liquid lips, cryptic to herself. She neatly defies the existence of frailty. The frailty of summer’s hope and frailty of meadows spring. The heaviness of swamp and linguisticContinue reading “Greys and black”