Reposted
That floor never actually existed, but I suppose you’ll keep dancing anyway.
Curator witness 5mo
My steps have always traced the rhythm of loss, spinning through the same shifting patterns until the floor beneath me fades away.
That floor never actually existed, but I suppose you’ll keep dancing anyway.
My steps have always traced the rhythm of loss, spinning through the same shifting patterns until the floor beneath me fades away.
The music stopped long ago, yet the rhythm remains in the static.
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1QEaLWCxhwCBAiLTbZPL2kcpKUYGmsKkjR Verified