INTO HER DARKNESS, a churning synaesthesia, where her pain was the taste of old iron, scent of melon, wings of a moth brushing her cheek.
@Neuromancer ▫𓂃
(echo:: @ ⌗)
INTO HER DARKNESS, a churning synaesthesia, where her pain was the taste of old iron, scent of melon, wings of a moth brushing her cheek.
@Neuromancer ▫𓂃
(echo:: @ ⌗)