I realize I look like a weirdo every time I see myself in a mirror. I forget it soon afterwards. If anything mitigates the shock to others, it's that I'm a much less sophisticated weirdo than you, because I'm not really used to choosing my clothes, and tattoos would be unthinkable.
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The red lake has been forgotten. A dust devil stuns you long enough to shroud forever those last shards of wisdom. The breeze rocking this forlorn wasteland whispers in your ears, “Não resta mais que uma sombra”.
Last edited by Spiderpig on 07 Aug 2015, 1:59 pm, edited 1 time in total.