Sometimes you can hear the wind, a short howling through the streets. It touches your skirt, strokes your legs and arms, neither hot nor cold and then it´s gone. The silence and heat wraps around me...
Read MoreSometimes you can hear the wind, a short howling through the streets. It touches your skirt, strokes your legs and arms, neither hot nor cold and then it´s gone. The silence and heat wraps around me...
Read More