Time is this rebellious steed that never stops; we barely caress its ears, its smooth coat. It rides away, leaving us like a stain in the background of the landscape.
My days grow short, a little gray. I perceive all their shades.
Reality forces you to do things you don't love; art is put on hold.
May my affection reach your door, may my friendship settle in your garden.
Time is this rebellious steed that never stops; we barely caress its ears, its smooth coat. It rides away, leaving us like a stain in the background of the landscape.
My days grow short, a little gray. I perceive all their shades.
Reality forces you to do things you don't love; art is put on hold.
May my affection reach your door, may my friendship settle in your garden.
I hope you are well.
Amigo, deseo que tus días dejen de ser grises y que adquieran un color más relacionado con la alegría. Un abrazo grande para ti.