4pm, in between still and again. Submerging in archaic nature. Blinking straight into a low sun. The days race by and more than once joy of being here mixes in melancholy. Dusk draws near once more.
4pm, in between still and again. Submerging in archaic nature. Blinking straight into a low sun. The days race by and more than once joy of being here mixes in melancholy. Dusk draws near once more.