In the eternal snow of the enchanted forest, the white tiger emerges, stealthy and sacred. His eyes of ice, his walk without sound, seem like a dream, a lost myth.
His fantasy in his glass skin, keeps secrets of an ancestral world, the owner of wind, time and cold, observes the moon from its dew. It is not a roar of anger, but a roar that enraptures, as if the spirit of the mountain were manifested in the piece.
[Eng./Esp.] The Curse of the Carats: Why I Live Naked. || La maldici贸n de los quilates, por qu茅 vivo desnudo.amigoponc 路
