What the Paint Remembers
Užupis
I stood close enough to see the plaster giving up its skin, one flake at a time. A blade of low sun cut across the wall and stopped at the handle, as if deciding whether to knock. Nobody answered either way
Užupis
I stood close enough to see the plaster giving up its skin, one flake at a time. A blade of low sun cut across the wall and stopped at the handle, as if deciding whether to knock. Nobody answered either way