I don’t know who I am, and that’s the truth. It’s as true as the blemishes on my skin and the weariness of my hands. I’m the figure enshrouded in mist, a small stone statue[…]
I don’t know who I am, and that’s the truth. It’s as true as the blemishes on my skin and the weariness of my hands. I’m the figure enshrouded in mist, a small stone statue[…]