If I could be an it, for there are certain appeals, I would be a raindrop and fall for what…
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It’s the deep, scarring way the ink presses into the grooves of the paper, or the fleeting mind of the…
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It is nights like these where I truly love my country- yes, me the cynical British-lover. Times like these when…
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It wasn’t a simple village, but it was ordinary. The girls that walked through the market, walked like the girls…
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The shadow falls on the darkened room, he barely hears her enter. “Couldn’t you have kept it there, why don’t…