Your wings are not quite right — dripping harps, missing strings, no wonder you are comically angry. You cannot fly, you cannot flap, you cannot yet be. Tomorrow, my friend. Tomorrow.
Keep creating,
Kate
Your wings are not quite right — dripping harps, missing strings, no wonder you are comically angry. You cannot fly, you cannot flap, you cannot yet be. Tomorrow, my friend. Tomorrow.
Keep creating,
Kate