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The daunting tremors as I wake, returned to time in its proper place. Though recollection escapes the comfort of my grasp, the aching...

The skies were always grey here. You had better luck striking it rich in the lotto than catching a glimpse of the sun behind its cloudy...

A language echoed through more than words, The chill of the wind, the songs of the birds. Clouds caress the face of the mountains, The...