As she waits at the station… a train of thoughts pass by… mourning over grief left behind…carrying along the the undeniable luggage… gathering courage for what’s yet to come…
So, the cooking didn’t quite go the way it was planned…
An old silent pond fish hiding under the leaves waiting for the sun…
Even in this barren Wasteland spring finds her way…
A fruity ensemble at my granny’s cozy spring scented loft…
Little town it’s a quiet Village every day like the one before…
This old room filled with vinyl memories
In good company I don’t mind losing during the course of the game
Diving into a writer’s soul discovering the broken treasure and beautiful mysteries that make you gasp for air
A soft breeze through the Willow queen’s forest…
We can still get a well brewed pint at the Woodland Inn
The magical light is waking me, outside the birds are singing springtime is coming…
