//
your story

My heart is a house with four red, fragile walls and a door.
The door is always open.
“Come right in, feel at home. Tell me what you are carrying?”

“May I write your story, please? It´s tickling so sweet.
If I do not write it now, the walls will collide.”

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annailo

I photograph, but I am no photographer. I write, but I am no writer. I was once a musician lost along the way. Life is too short to hide these things I cannot live without.

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