Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Iron Lung
Years of mental abuses that were self-imposed. A life reduced to simple tasks. Breathe. Grow. I am a seed in a bed of shit. Feeble body//strength of mind. Thoughts will wander. I’m still here inside my fate. So many numbers to divide by 3. So many landscapes and beautiful things. Their ugly faces still remind me that life is shit