IRC-Galleria

I'm unclean, a libertine
And every time you vent your spleen,
I seem to lose the power of speech,
Your slipping slowly from my reach.
You grow me like an evergreen,
You never see the lonely me at all.


*4 is my lucky number.

Temperature is 7,2 °C and it's July.

Haluaisin valokuvata. Olo on kuin narkilla; vittuuntuneen hapottunut, kun haluaisin tuntea kameran taas käsissäni.

Soitellaan.