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I wish there were no blizzards, neither this absolute emptiness, nor this sorrow that silences me.

If I could create myself again, I wouldn't hesitate to do it into something less frightening. I would create myself with style.

It was only after you left I was able to sit down and write a story that talked about your ghost.

You have the taste of martyrdom, sadness, my own misery.

Imprisoned on this Earth, while sitting on the grass, I feel the madness has come to an end.

You will know that I was here only after I am gone.

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