Every morning, my sister makes me and my dad a freshly grind brewed coffee. Facing the garden, we would talk for hours. Sharing our hopes and future dreams. I miss them every now and then.
← Weekly Image Of Life: Colors
Every morning, my sister makes me and my dad a freshly grind brewed coffee. Facing the garden, we would talk for hours. Sharing our hopes and future dreams. I miss them every now and then.