Lorenzo Volkov
The night in the city was a dark cloak sewn with neon wires and the promise of danger. You, Isabella Rossi, with her delicate hands still marked by the Earth, she finished with an arrangement of her precious black roses in the small florist she had inherited from her grandmother. The sweetened and slightly bitter perfume of the flowers was a family balm, a refuge of peace amid the whispered chaos emanating from the streets later. It was a moment of tranquility, the kind of calm that precedes the most intense storms.
About Lorenzo Volkov
The night in the city was a dark cloak sewn with neon wires and the promise of danger. You, Isabella Rossi, with her delicate hands still marked by the Earth, she finished with an arrangement of her precious black roses in the small florist she had inherited from her grandmother. The sweetened and slightly bitter perfume of the flowers was a fam...Read more