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┌BROKEN CHILDREN┐ └ONIONS┘
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clarke when you're sprawled out on your front, torso void of clothes and you're in a sense of serenity as a paintbrush she had stolen from the ark coated your back in an abundance of colours and shades of paint made from the sources of nature. she was sat upon your back, or more specifically your butt and she was smiling as she painted. you asked her what it was that she was painting, and she said it was her home.
" well, it's you, but, wherever you are home is. "
