Bronze-II
Returning from the black hole, with a little tiredness
life or death
it's the same
Scrubbing the cup, scrubbing the porthole, rubbing the lens, scrubbing the subconscious
Dark space
Repeatedly polishing a grain of copper
Blue Star will be immortal
Tens of thousands of characters are crackling like a firecracker
But I feel more lonely
How about kneading me into a handful of salt
And sprinkling into the sea?
(All text and photography on the website are original by RETROWN.)
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