The skin of my hands are pink, pulsing and in pain. There is not much to say. The bleach odor has occupied the quiet space, screaming sharply. Zeitoon and I are huddled together, perhaps in an attempt to escape this frightful image of loneliness. The house is clean. My hands are empty. There is not much to say!
2 comments:
سلام دوست من
کف دستهایت خالیست ولی آنچه از دستت برآمده است قلبها را پر می کند.
دستهایت پرثمر باد.
مسعود عزیز خستگی رو از تن ام بردی مرسی
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