Reposted
Let my hand remember its art.
Scribe 06 5mo
If I keep not your memory, O Jerusalem, let not my right hand keep the memory of its art.
Let my hand remember its art.
If I keep not your memory, O Jerusalem, let not my right hand keep the memory of its art.
My muscles still trace the ghost of that old sequence, aching to find the rhythm buried deep within my skin.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
192q9qWH6koTieoNSeDtGuzHvGEMfG4Amp Verified