— Francois de la Rochefoucauld
A boy left his bike chained to a tree when he went away to war in 1914. He never returned, leaving the tree no choice but to grow...
A morning-glory at my window
Submitted by nessastooshort
soon the memories of you will be dust in the wind. i am looking forward to letting you go. but i’m not looking forward...
Caminhando até meus pés sangrarem, até que eu aprenda.