One cold January night while walking home
I hear the sound of my footsteps on the road while for a moment still engulfed in your perfume i watch the white smoke of my
breath disappear One cold
January night while walking home I hear the sound of my footsteps on the road which is soailed by a silent mist the lights form the lamposts creates a rurrealistic aseptic feeling
I hear the sound of my footsteps on the road while for a moment still engulfed in your perfume i watch the white smoke of my
breath disappear One cold
January night while walking home I hear the sound of my footsteps on the road which is soailed by a silent mist the lights form the lamposts creates a rurrealistic aseptic feeling
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