Black crows rattle in the trees like dried peas in a tin. Bark scars pinch, scrafing, bleached and picked. Did you know the mouth of the burn grins baleen roots of trees, whistling a wind across the North Sea ? The silence of snow is coming.
artist
artist
Black crows rattle in the trees like dried peas in a tin. Bark scars pinch, scrafing, bleached and picked. Did you know the mouth of the burn grins baleen roots of trees, whistling a wind across the North Sea ? The silence of snow is coming.
dominique cameron 