Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
stop asking questions that don't matter anyway
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
one should always talk well about oneself! The word spreads around and in the end, noone remembers where it started
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
À mon seul désir
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
the night is a wonderful country to rule
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
ah, how mysteriously the everyday things of life brush by us!
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
the fields of Oblivion
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
elegance is the only beauty that never fades
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
charisma is the ability to influence without logic
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
a straight nose is a great help if one wishes to look serious
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
"Give me my Romeo, and, when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun."
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
wouldn't it be dreadful to live in a country where they didn't have tea!?
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
In the face of terror, it is resilience that forges the path to survival
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
the fragile pulse of what remains
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
through the cracks of silence, symphonies of possibilities emerge
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
in every face there is a story yet to be told
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
this luminous air, given as breath, resting like gold on everything it touches
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
the quiet drift of time, no urgency left to measure it by the tick of clocks
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
feathers barely brushing the skin of the wind, they carry the scent of something just beyond our reach—
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
you feel it, don’t you. That trembling, that soft whisper of more—
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
beneath the scaffold of clothing, like fieldstone cloaked in moss, lies the self that no other hand lays claim to
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!:
hope is a filament, gossamer-light, tethered to the unseen curve of tomorrow