The sky is the orange outside of a shell; the sward of icy grass the pale blue inner smooth and frozen. Dark trails of path and wheel rut snaking into the distance just as I my wandering drawn line would want to draw them. Breath funnels, chuff-chuffs. I am a steam engine.
Thrush
Thrush
Thrush
The sky is the orange outside of a shell; the sward of icy grass the pale blue inner smooth and frozen. Dark trails of path and wheel rut snaking into the distance just as I my wandering drawn line would want to draw them. Breath funnels, chuff-chuffs. I am a steam engine.