1. time was not passing | it was turning in a circle

     
     
  2. A blindness that touches perfection but hurts just like anything else.

     
     
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  10. But if you could just see the beauty,
    These things I could never describe,
    These pleasures a wayward distraction,
    This is my one lucky prize.

     
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  13. régine, roma | 23-6-14

     
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