Like in the sight to the street, through the closed shutters, it seems like the street is comming inside of me, silently…

… and whispering: welcome back.
… to the smelly poppy fields.
… to the boundless dreams.

Like in the sight to the street, through the closed shutters, it seems like the street is comming inside of me, silently…

… and whispering: welcome back.
… to the smelly poppy fields.
… to the boundless dreams.