If I die,leave the balcony open.The little boy is eating oranges.(From my balcony I can see him.)The reaper is harvesting the wheat.(From my balcony I can hear him.)
Federico Garcia Lorca
If I die,leave the balcony open.The little boy is eating oranges.(From my balcony I can see him.)The reaper is harvesting the wheat.(From my balcony I can hear him.)