It’s that hour of the morning for which she insists on perfect silence. She sits on the cramped balcony sketching on a large pad propped on her knee. The door is open and down in the street there are car...
It’s that hour of the morning for which she insists on perfect silence. She sits on the cramped balcony sketching on a large pad propped on her knee. The door is open and down in the street there are car...