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Aug 2014
The spoon in my cup is hot, but I don't burn myself on it, contrarily to you, I always burn my fingers on you.

The light from outside is coloured in a soft blue, I'm drinking hot potables to dispel the cold inside of me that stayed after you went away.

I'm listening to Debussy's Claire de Lune and it remembers me of you – beautiful yet so incredibly sad…
Gold
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Gold
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