We like winter, thery much… why? It is writen in our blood in the the thing called adn… we love it but when winter past and march with his flowers and bees and then the display of things that become in a another thing… called love that is the power flower – love.
It is the moring of first march, wake up from a nightmare dream, wokend but still there staring at you with a glimpse of future mememories given no fuck just pressing on like nevernding tide till the unamed feeling is almost gone.
Join in, have a sip of this butifull nature, put a recorder on from the time we wore so happy I could die.