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It's only because of the morning sun.
Author:
Categories: youthfulness
Statuses: Updating
She babbled, when it was the first born, he loved, is young, he never, spoiled her into the bone into the marrow; fifteen years old, she said, the world, who may abandon me, only he, will never; sixteen years old, but she can only cry out in the bottom of her heart, don't don't me. Spreading out our hands, we always think we hold the fate, so fearless, so silent, so smooth, but only after a thousand holes...