Little Shiva

A beautiful story that I never wrote Yesterday I collected the thoughts that flew in my head like butterflies. I wanted to write a story as beautiful as the night sky. But in the end, I could only draw a little Shiva with crooked little fingers. Time dragged on slowly, but I realized that I had only a few seconds to remember, and then transmit the entire moment. I was drowning in a sketch, Shiva with crooked little fingers grew up in his black and white childhood. At some point, I and Shiva, we both realized that we were resting our noses against a wall as black as night. I was asleep. Shiva remained in place under the pressed screen of the folded laptop, he acquired the first paints, a f...View all