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  • Sometimes, the buildings, the people, their speeches, the clothes, the pictures, the sidewalks, the cars, the films, the songs, the job, the noises, the windows, the money, the roads, the hurries, the plastic, the glass, the parties, the books, the bars and the society grow around me like prison walls with windows full of bars... But then, when I less expect it, micuwe kin or a paper plane come flying throuth the metal bars and prevent the walls from growing... and in between all the things that prevent us from being free and happy, the beam of light printed on the paper makes me fly free and I feel I may be alive. Maybe.
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