Dreams, like eggs, succumb to the first touch of a long fingernail. In white yellow blobs, nobody can tell how perfection used to be contained in such a wreck, how happiness used to be a synonym of such a sorry sight.
Dreams, like eggs, succumb to the first touch of a long fingernail. In white yellow blobs, nobody can tell how perfection used to be contained in such a wreck, how happiness used to be a synonym of such a sorry sight.