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Imagine un enfant en bas-âge. Qui se balladerai dans les nuages. Yaurai sa mère dans un visage. Quelques bombecs, quelques mirages.
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Silent ballads of chaotic emotions roaring loudly in words. City lights twinkled like stars below. We stood on her rooftop, on the 13th floor. The city was close enough for us to claim it as ours, yet far enough to leave us our own personal heaven above those stars.
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Pour les autres je vous demande juste de passer votre route! Je répΦnd ậ tout les messaes.