Reading is my hobby. Now gone, like it's not even exist at all... And I once wrote for fun, but where was the fun I once had?
It is 2026. I felt better now, but the fun still haven't comebacks yet. Who am I and why am I existed with purposeless thought?
Well... I have to endure this blindness. I can't cry much more of this. This is my pain after all, not your responsibility to help me.
God bless, my book-lover brothers and sisters.
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Stories by Dyler.no7
K-257
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