I have to baste every detail , winter clothing the patchwork of party and believe that the gray installed after the window is just the whim of an eccentric artist that morning, cracked paint, the orange will look above to happiness.
distressing is busy street stories faceless hiding in doorways while ant runs pathetic without knowing exactly where it goes.
not understand the whispering of loneliness populated.
No wind. There has been no wind to dance the pennants.
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