My only home are the daydreams I dream.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNMy only home are the daydreams I dream.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNI dreamed in skies of blue before september stole all the light.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNI can’t wait for the day to be wild again.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNNight time thoughts lead nowhere but into melancholy.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNThere’s too much hurt in loving but too little life in not.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNSummer left me like an almost lover.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNToday, she decided to sparkle. And so she did.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNSpring is poetry poured into nature.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNI search for summer in every corner of september.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNIt’s January, it’s cold and I search the sky for summer like I always do.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNLet’s go back when we still saw stories in the stars.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNWe fell in love because we were both summer souls.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNSummer was soaked with you.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNNights were made for broken hearts.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNA lover should be two things at once: the wild and a home.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANNFrom her glass of red wine she takes a sip of the evening sun.
MARIE-KRISTIN HOFMANN