No fortress is reliant on wreckage in the bedrock. Her home in her body was a hollow corridor until she found her true front door. Until she sat down in the lounge of her own being, there was a wandering that was not to be quenched. Along the corridor she found him, and his musk in the nook of his chest was the fanfare that helped her find the recliner of her ancestral grandmothers. There is my spot, she said and curled up next to him.
Purchase of this NFT includes a right to a print of up to 3m wide or tall from the artist.
