A moon halation. In one night of trees to the touchy bodies. I stole his milky glare. Of a point of feather. Threading through the cat of the lock. Heart of a cloudy sky. It can miss with the skies. Because it shines in your eyes. Like the most invaluable good. It is as that which I want you. Pure.
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J'aime ce qui est gothique, ce qui est romantique, je vous présente mes textes et mes photos. I like what is gothic, what is romantic, I present my texts and photos Steffan Urell
