Walk slow, grandpa Sun.
Slow. Slow.
For I see my love this night, and the sweet sorrow of coming death is best sipped with delicate breath.
Walk Slow
Walk slow, grandpa Sun.
Slow. Slow.
For I see my love this night, and the sweet sorrow of coming death is best sipped with delicate breath.
😍
Desperately sad, for some reason.
Reblogged this on Writings by Viento de Octubre.