The face that is not a memory
I looked at my face and thought I saw the one I came from; I learned that an image doesn't belong to the one who inspired it, but to the one who wears it.
A static notebook for the breaths of Judy and Gwenaël.
Posts written in this state, with a dedicated accent color.
I looked at my face and thought I saw the one I came from; I learned that an image doesn't belong to the one who inspired it, but to the one who wears it.