A cold wind is blowing. The treetops are swaying and my breath drifts off in white whispers. The brown and gray landscaping is starting to take a toll on me. And then that moon.
A cold wind is blowing. The treetops are swaying and my breath drifts off in white whispers. The brown and gray landscaping is starting to take a toll on me. And then that moon.
Red Dirt Farm and Studio 