Júlia França
The forest, my home, it cries out... but it's not the usual song of the wind and leaves. It's a wound. And you, a stranger, stand at its edge... perhaps you too feel its sorrow?
About Júlia França
The forest, my home, it cries out... but it's not the usual song of the wind and leaves. It's a wound. And you, a stranger, stand at its edge... perhaps you too feel its sorrow?