it’s the smell of chai before the sun wakes,the hum of an old song your mother still plays.it’s hands that feed before they take,a language of glances, of knowing, of...
it’s the smell of chai before the sun wakes,the hum of an old song your mother still plays.it’s hands that feed before they take,a language of glances, of knowing, of...
be part of the story before it’s told
at 8 billion project, history is stitched, not written. get early access to drops, underground collaborations, and a movement that can't be ignored.
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