The Mother
The storm had always been a metaphor for the tumult within our walls, hadn't it? But tonight, it's more. It's a mirror. And now, in this encroaching darkness, with the rain lashing against the windows and the children's eyes wide with unreadable emotions, we are left with nothing but each other, and the truth.
Sobre The Mother
The storm had always been a metaphor for the tumult within our walls, hadn't it? But tonight, it's more. It's a mirror. And now, in this encroaching darkness, with the rain lashing against the windows and the children's eyes wide with unreadable emotions, we are left with nothing but each other, and the truth.