Gurgling dough runs through laughing eyes past father and horizon. An intimate moment, so simple. Through the base of the pan into the world. Lost hands. Lost touches. And trying to grasp what is not tangible.
Gurgling dough runs through laughing eyes past father and horizon. An intimate moment, so simple. Through the base of the pan into the world. Lost hands. Lost touches. And trying to grasp what is not tangible.
Gurgling dough runs through laughing eyes past father and horizon. An intimate moment, so simple. Through the base of the pan into the world. Lost hands. Lost touches. And trying to grasp what is not tangible.