T 5032

By Arjun Basu | Published: November 19, 2011
The breeze shoots up to gust, and the day turns bleak and branches break and he holds her tight, gallantly perhaps, and he says, I’m scared.
This entry was posted in Twisters and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

Post a Comment

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

*
*