Some days I feel like Beyonce and some days I feel like Rihanna…
HOPE is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
Done by Nero Ink in Milan, Italy
My father draw it, so that I can keep him always with me