#pro-gallery-lhde-not-scoped .gallery-item-container { opacity: 0 } #pro-gallery-lhde-not-scoped .gallery-item-hover::before { background: transparent !important}try { window.requestAnimationFrame(function() { var ele = document.getElementById('pro-gallery-lhde-not-scoped'); var pgMeasures = ele.getBoundingClientRect(); var options = (() => "gallerySizeType:px|enableInfiniteScroll:true|titlePlacement:SHOW_ON_HOVER|hasThumbnails:false|imageMargin:5|galleryLayout:6|isVertical:false|gallerySizePx:300|cubeType:fill|galleryThumbnailsAlignment:none")(ele); var width = pgMeasures.width; var height = pgMeasures.height; var isIOS = /iPad|iPhone|iPod/.test(navigator?.userAgent); if(isIOS) { width = width; width = width; height = height; height = height; } else { width = width; width = width; height = height; height = height; } pgMeasures = { top: pgMeasures.top, width, height }; var isVertical = options.includes('layoutParams_structure_scrollDirection:"VERTICAL"'); var layoutFixerUrl = '/_serverless/pro-gallery-css-v4-server/layoutCss?ver=2&id=lhde-not-scoped&items=3394_6720_4480&container=' + pgMeasures.top + '_' + pgMeasures.width + '_' + pgMeasures.height + '_' + window.innerHeight + '&options=' + options; document.getElementById('layout-fixer-style-lhde-not-scoped').setAttribute('href', encodeURI(layoutFixerUrl)); }); } catch (e) { console.warn('Cannot set layoutFixer css', e); }Burstling streets with vendors yelling,
The smell of flowers and sweat hung in the air
The jingling of anklets and the beeping of cars
Well, it was just another day at the local bazaar
I was five, holding my mother’s hand, pointing at a balloon
When the ground beneath my feet was no longer there
And I was up high in the air
I cried out to my mom flapping around with no control
“It’s just a kiss on the cheek and a pat on your shoulder”, I was told.
And with a lump in my throat, I managed to smile
And I’ve been ever since,
Trembling with fear, a storm raging inside
They said, “It’s just how love’s supposed to feel like”,
Like roses I thought love’s embrace would feel
But maybe all those roses do is hide the thorns.