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Nov 2012
I feel the old-age fire sweeping over and expanding my vision of the lush red-brick empire, of the city street I meet my grandfather's omnipotence, as his eyes saw in layers, with decade toppling into decade. The overtones wained from the moaning of steel on steel, the speeding gloss of rain promised birth. I guess mother nature knows best.
Byron
Written by
Byron
651
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