Art Stories: Portrait of Imperialism
The sky is quiet the night before a fight. But the sun screams heat the next morning as if to say, “there will be fire and death today”. The very land aches with blood to be spilled.
The sky is quiet the night before a fight. But the sun screams heat the next morning as if to say, “there will be fire and death today”. The very land aches with blood to be spilled.