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Changes, changes, changes.

The shape of clouds on the canvas.

Sculpted by wind.

Filled with water.

Crackling lightnings.

The fire in this one,

is not for all to see.

The results are.



Try as you may, to keep the bubble, of your frail existence, burst it will. Cosmeticize to your heart’s content, miseries and trophies of a life lived, on terms made by your growing self, your indepen


In the journey you will find moments that wield insuperable might. Assiduous planning, hand of friendship or blood thirsty fight. Which path would you decide? Apposite or the opposite, what measure wi


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