after der lindenbaum.
โ
โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ โ ย ย ย ย ย ๐ข
Frabjous day awaits us to lend these hands and strings a finger-to-finger note: the words were etched onto the barren motherland by fallen brushwood; untouched by the dying spring, it shall not awash. Books cradled in trembling hands, tainted by grime and wear; the belief in this...
