Young Insomniac

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It's midnight, in the summer time. My window is open and the crickets are very loud, but it's soothing. My room smells warm like honeysuckle and dew. I'm reading a book that smells slightly of must and I feel it in my nostrils. It seems like no one else exists. Nothing beyond my little room. I'm 12 years old and it is absolutely beautiful.

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