Breathing, Out of Love for Respiration
There’s an apartheid, to our senses— It leaves an underscore as to why we can’t breathe in the same room. My breath is nicotine, tobacco, and ardor. We act as if the jester was not the most loving […]
There’s an apartheid, to our senses— It leaves an underscore as to why we can’t breathe in the same room. My breath is nicotine, tobacco, and ardor. We act as if the jester was not the most loving […]