»Some goodbyes are not ends but releases.« My new drawing is finally done. Let me know w

»Some goodbyes are not ends but releases.«

My new drawing is finally done. Let me know what you’re thinking looking at this.

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.