Peter Clown, why are you so sad, so bitter? Is your violin broken? Why are you holding on to your bow? Why, tell me, you no longer listen The parrot, your friend, whispering his friendship to you?
Peter Clown, why are you so sad, so bitter? Is your violin broken? Why are you holding on to your bow? Why, tell me, you no longer listen The parrot, your friend, whispering his friendship to you?
About Living in Paris gave me the opportunity to accomplish my dream to paint. I came from Russia. My artwork sources from my Tatar roots. My mother and grandmother showed me... Read more