Clouds hang low, heavy with musings, awash in the delicateness of rain’s whispered kiss; droplets gather— an orchestra of forms, jumbled and loose.
Nature’s laughter, echoes in puddles, the world’s skewed reflection, a mirror, distorted.
- Max Ernst
Clouds hang low, heavy with musings, awash in the delicateness of rain’s whispered kiss; droplets gather— an orchestra of forms, jumbled and loose.
Nature’s laughter, echoes in puddles, the world’s skewed reflection, a mirror, distorted.