The story is still neatly stored in the folds of twilight, the red hue of the saga is a silent witness to the beauty of the romance, you and I walk together, brushing aside the thick grass, while the private sector is slipping on the horizon.
Love song...
The tinkling melody of bamboo chrysanthemums twists the gusts of the song as the soul dances, the feelings of two people join together to sing happily, as if the world belongs to them alone, embracing love all day long.
But, honey...
The beauty of the story only takes place in a dream, when Lena wakes up disappointed, the beautiful dayita's soul mate disappears somewhere, leaving behind a burst of paused secrets.
In the name of longing through typing words, I want to feel the beauty of the dream of escorting the story again, so that the sadness of oneself can break down sadly, making twilight as a painting of a real framing story on Viona's back.
The cold swish of the night breeze, blew me away in the swift currents of fantasy, kept my soul in solitude, hoping to accompany beautiful days without the pain of suffering.
Tonight...
Let me paint longing, visualize images as if they are not sad, even though the pain is endlessly hanging in this heart, let Bayu take my Atma to fly through the mega-megas, forgetting all about the sorrow that reigns.
A splash of ink ️
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