What is north of the Tropic of Cancer? It is mist, water vapor, and the sky that cannot be torn apart. I lower my head and hug my knees.
The fog is misty and the clouds are low. I want the first white breath I exhale in the morning to say to you: Good morning.
Not anymore, now we are all saying this from the warmth of our beds.
Intention: Nothing more than 30,000 days, a little more relaxed, a little more romantic...