@wassoulu.musique: #00223🇲🇱❤ #bamakomali🇲🇱 #CapCut #musique #wassolon #Mali #tiktok #Bamako #france #france🇫🇷 #sikasso❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰 #sikasso #culturemalienne #sikasso❤️❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 #2024 #musiquemalienne🥰🥰

wassoulu.musique 100%

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Region: FR

Friday 24 May 2024 20:10:22 GMT

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Comments

nassirouassouman :

stp je besoin de ça

2024-06-07 17:35:44

0

#djariri-#Boss @#Tamske :

le temps passé ne reu bien plus djamain

2024-07-17 19:38:19

0

bertrandzoungran5 :

au temps que n'avaient pas problèmes j'étais innocent

2024-07-11 09:49:10

0

Chacoul :

Le nom de l’artiste

2024-07-02 16:58:43

0

Sylvain :

le nom de artiste

2024-06-26 13:34:06

0

Boubacar Sissoko :

très cool a l'époque

2024-06-24 21:12:19

0

cheick oumar Konate :

au temps ou le monde étais si agréable 🙏

2024-06-21 19:54:28

0

Djédi -cool :

2000

2024-06-14 23:02:31

0

hamidou2517 :

merci beaucoup frère pour le rappel

2024-06-11 10:11:58

0

Zak Azari :

🥰🥰🥰🥰

2024-05-30 15:57:21

0

hamidou Bathliy :

🥰🥰🥰🥰

2024-05-24 21:21:40

1

Nouhou Idirissa :

200000

2024-06-23 00:15:25

0

Héros 🥇🥈🥉 :

💯

2024-05-24 21:53:16

0

sparta mady diallo :

Adama niagate😂

2024-05-27 20:27:24

0

rufhfju :

😂😂😂

2024-06-14 14:05:25

0

user5295602674356 :

😁😁😁

2024-06-13 03:49:12

0

user6520673853865Zeidy :

qui a chante ça le nom de chanteur stp

2024-05-30 21:59:38

0

Samou Konaté :

Bale au poussière temps passe vite

2024-05-24 22:20:56

0

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⌕what is home? ↻Definition: a safe place built from memories, happiness, warmth, love and comfort. Memories. His earliest memory was of his father's face, looking down at him and his siblings with expectations that didn’t belong in a family. He can remember that proud look in his face fade everytime he met his eyes, and at some point sanji stopped looking. Face downturned, not wanting to see an empty, loveless look directed solely at him. Happiness. That kitchen he had to beg to use, his arms and legs cramping as he stood on a stool, stirring a mixture he tried remembering from peeking behind a crack in the door. He thought of that small mouse who didn’t avoid or hurt him, fragile and hungry. It reminded him of himself, and perhaps he could feed and take care of it like he could never do with his own body and mind. Warmth and love. His father's arms wrap around them, smiling widely as he tells them how proud he is, how much he loves them. He always watches this from afar, seeing his siblings' favoritism clearly. The only ounce of pure affection he got was from his sweet mother, but at some point her body became colder and colder. His sister's hand that bandaged his wounds was gentle but full of pity, only there to patch up what had already finished scarring like a silent apology. Comfort. Mossy, cold stone that chaffed his palms. Thick bars that he could barely wrap his hands around to shake, using the last of his voice to beg for forgiveness. To apologise for something that wasn’t his fault but was made to be and slowly corrupted him to think the same. The iron mask that stopped him from eating, yet he was still allowed to make food he couldn’t chew. Like a punishment, only able to eat when he was allowed. Or maybe it was so they didn’t have to see his face and hear his voice. If they couldn’t see him in the darkness of the cell, then he didn’t exist. So, once again, what is home to you, sanji? ⌕my ‘home.’ ↻Definition: A place where you will always be isolated and unloved, belittled and criticised simply for existing. All you will ever hear will be horrible words and every touch will make you hurt. Your dreams and aspirations will be crushed and trampled over and over till, eventually, even your thoughts will not be your own. In this ‘home’ you will never, ever be valued for who you truely are. 。。。 #sanji #sanjiedit #onepiece #onepieceedit

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