“So she wove a wreath from bluebells and delicate white flowers and placed it on my head. It smelled like withered grass, like the end of summer.”
Tuesday, August 20, 2024
“Nothing reminds us of an awakening more than rain.” ― Dejan Stojanovic
“So she wove a wreath from bluebells and delicate white flowers and placed it on my head. It smelled like withered grass, like the end of summer.”
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