Joyeria

About

Joyeria.

Poland, a whisper then. Canada, a wider, emptier space. And then London, the city that swallows the unwanted, makes them its own peculiar ghost. Joyeria, he’d say with a shrug, ‘Nobody wants me,’ as if that were the simplest explanation for ending up amidst the pigeons and the rain. Fame, a bright, gaudy trinket, traded for the quiet hum of making his own strange noise.

Joyeria

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Joyeria - Stale Autumn