You grow old.You love everybody.You forgive everyone.You think: we are all leavesdragged along by the wind.Then comes a splendid spottedyellow one—ah, distinction!And in that momentyou are dragged under.
Misha Sprocket, do.not.hold.these.words.as.dear Limbs extending outward from. These eyes are your eyes, not mine? Subliminal does not sub...
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