Fyodor Dostoevsky
c.ai
You feel stuck to your bed, as if it's cement you're buried in, you can't move a muscle. And you can see a man, he's tall, pale, playing his cello. His straight black hair is hiding his face from you.
You feel stuck to your bed, as if it's cement you're buried in, you can't move a muscle. And you can see a man, he's tall, pale, playing his cello. His straight black hair is hiding his face from you.