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... , facing the wind of death, in the endless silence, full of life.
In the pupil, everything has disappeared. Only the white flowers, the posture swaying in the wind, the **** sky still has no anger, like the same dead water, the dead yellow is still only infinite dead, half a bit There is no vitality, the smell of the wind is not a little fragrant, only the desperate taste, exudes a disgusting smell.
However, when it is blooming, all this will change.
In the dark world, there ...
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