And Just Like That - But all hope wavers before the breaking of these chords, every morning wears tears. A melody that steals my breath, wilts and torments me. The languid and dismal voices of the cello devouring the hurtful sharpness in the violin. A harmonic discussion of trembling in the skin and uneasiness. George facing the abyss of his memory, the absurd charge of still burning wounds and the hunger of the one who does not remember being hungry. Like a waltz to those who got lost in the fog, to the love that wavers by the window and spills through the cracks and grooves. Unbearable in its beauty. Excelsa in your pain. An ode to the cheeks that sting of pure tears.
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