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In ten minutes, someone tries to hide the sad eyes after a night of fear and sorrow. Alone, in the darkness, a man cries an ocean in fetal position, accompanied only for the memories and questions without any response. Silence. A cold look incomprehensible after all battles. The time passed, the old mode and the extreme necessity to leave the place of the same faces. Quit this world where the love is only a word in a song.
The love is not misery. Real love is to host in arms the dreams of the others. The love, is a word in the far histories in the time. An unfinished theme making bad in the heart of the men. They with the risk to feel. Love is a painting with all colors, the bright of the human desires and the deep darkness of a look in the night. The important promises are only important in a side. The most part of the time."
The love is not misery. Real love is to host in arms the dreams of the others. The love, is a word in the far histories in the time. An unfinished theme making bad in the heart of the men. They with the risk to feel. Love is a painting with all colors, the bright of the human desires and the deep darkness of a look in the night. The important promises are only important in a side. The most part of the time."

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