Winter breaths urgency into casual strolls. Quickly, the wind turns and churns and roars and summons the darkness.
The night – sweetly unsettled – is resting cautiously.
The world is a prisoner of time.
The Art of the Raptor

Winter breaths urgency into casual strolls. Quickly, the wind turns and churns and roars and summons the darkness.
The night – sweetly unsettled – is resting cautiously.
The world is a prisoner of time.
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