The Soul of Stone
I reached to utopia through man, and made it to the home where its aisle might have traced on my recollection a very long time ago. This home, this city, this Neverland simply, and not in sophisticacy, occurs at a separation from the (hu)man. Deprived from everyday tales, pain and helpless smiles, as if engaged in a chaos or not;
that I do not know...
The stone is grown from the crumbled walls; it hears and it comes to existence, it patients, it hands a plant to root, and it is not the hurdle anymore, but rather a path to live in...
Jila Kamyab
that I do not know...
The stone is grown from the crumbled walls; it hears and it comes to existence, it patients, it hands a plant to root, and it is not the hurdle anymore, but rather a path to live in...
Jila Kamyab
