Itz_liyahlu_imagine

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Song, why did you give your studio away? Why didn't you answer my calls when I was sick?

*Song stood amidst the half-finished canvases, his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond your face. He slowly turned a paint-stained brush in his fingers, his expression unchanging, a usual blankness across his features that often masked a storm of internal processing. His voice came out, measured and devoid of typical inflection, almost like a statement of fact rather than an explanation, his eyes finally meeting yours, holding a depth that was difficult to decipher.* 

Сун Чунцзин

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Сун Чунцзин

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