Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne


It shows up without an invitation; a formless, colorless force that makes the soul tremble in delight. It tightens its grip and imperiously leads. Sometimes it just flirts and woos, like a teenage girl showing off a new flower in her hair, and leaving doodles, flourishes and question marks. Sometimes like a bolt from a dark sky it tears the sleep off your eyelids. Sometimes a barely visible apparition, it floats on the horizon and waves from afar. It grumbles, utters something unintelligible, tousling the senses. It leaves without a warning.



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