Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
Photo by Ákos Szabó
Photo by Ian Turnell
Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
Between our birth and death we may touch understanding, As a moth brushes a window with its wing.
