Forget and forgive the ancient in the form of remembering. All are dull semblance of pasting years … all you can do is facing the death in its pain. The days are, the nights are … but only the recalling of the past is present to memories. Pastiches of Presents, we’re doing the play in stages of elder auditorium. At now, the clocks are turning their axes backward in- fronting the last memories.
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