Sssilentium, The Moth:
Drift
none of them;:
the paper hearts of children birds.
Hello Twiggs:
it was meant to be a dream
juliusfrumble:
volo basso
anna.russelli:
ho respirato il sole...
Nightdriver:
Andreina in the mud
Sssilentium, The Moth:
No line on the horizon
Sssilentium, The Moth:
to get to the heart of the matter
Eowyn (si dice euin):
camidù tutù
Sssilentium, The Moth:
Dreams of glory
| Mick the mic |:
Little dogs grow up
Sssilentium, The Moth:
ghost