Tempest, born (✶) Claws strong enough, as though forged by storm clouds, for we reign as beasts clad in thunder. Atop the realm’s devotion they would hear the forlorn roar: / .. Born Dire.
More #late-pöst coming from Bvlgari’s captures and my endless obsession with gilt-edged ornaments. A wistful soul’s intuition! ⍣ Sheen-laden adornments come into sight, and it feels like a sudden interlude to chase, accompanied by witty spotlights from every angle.
I almost forgot the fact of November coming into our embrace, temperatures getting lower, and warmth bursting like late-afternoon rays. Not my prior favorite, but this season tinges, when it hits 3°C (&&.) with low-amber solace and nostalgic feelings of page xii.
