If I have to be the perfect something, I would be the perfect ruin; the splendor that never was but rumored by decline and sighs. A romantic vision made in the stillness of memories where troubles are forgotten and perfection reigns.
Where lines happen.
If I have to be the perfect something, I would be the perfect ruin; the splendor that never was but rumored by decline and sighs. A romantic vision made in the stillness of memories where troubles are forgotten and perfection reigns.