All is white, frozen.
So cold.
But there is a kind of beauty in the ice-cold sound which born and rises from the streets.
Louder and more disant than anyone.
All around, the world seems to sleep, or to wait for something,
whereas the grey light of dawn reveals the asphalt under the ice sheet.
So cold.
But there is a kind of beauty in the ice-cold sound which born and rises from the streets.
Louder and more disant than anyone.
All around, the world seems to sleep, or to wait for something,
whereas the grey light of dawn reveals the asphalt under the ice sheet.