The Story of Memories
Again, I was really loved until the torture of me, I could no longer sit on my desk in the months of anguish, what I used to plunge past prunes, fish, fries, playing the arcade I enjoyed.
Then you went to fly over time, the first eye pain to teach me to forget my way to embarrass you. A few years ago when I went to town to visit ours, I met you in the neighborhood market.
One of them was in the womb of a man in a pram. When we look at the eye, the body almost turned into a buoy swinging in each wave in the middle of the sea.
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