She couldn't believe how wonderful she felt. The alarm rang.
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Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
Green (7) : real or not real?
She couldn't believe how wonderful she felt. The alarm rang.
