Circle

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When the last man dies, when the last living being leaves, this world will be a memory of old creatures. Time will pass. Space will fold in itself. The creation will move on. There will come a time when a new life blooms here. Maybe they will never know that there were inhabitants here. Long before them. They will think that they are the first who have been there. Just like we do. Sometimes the creation changes but the stories remain the same.
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