

w h i t e paintThere was always a reoccurring nightmare; always that same dream, those same painstaking sweat-soaked moments that crushed the heart and lungs and applied so much pressure that death was imminent and all too certain.w h i t e paint
In this vision, there was always a reoccurring place. It seemed to be a house and yet it was very much outdoors and still yet there was a window. The other side of the window reflected somewhere else and yet nowhere at all. There were stars and the night and the entire world and universe but it was all confined into a small rectangle, squished and compressed to fit the scale of the window.
A clean blan
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With love,
*Gir-Gir
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Fly me away,
take me away,
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These words stopped being fiction the moment they fell to the page where the words were blurredalltogether.
your gallery is very original and cute
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晉ちゃん
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How's life on your end?
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These words stopped being fiction the moment they fell to the page where the words were blurredalltogether.
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