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... r be forgotten.
Closed eyes, sorrowful and obsessed with the aroma of the memory, the half-floating heart finally recovered a little calm.
Re-paving a piece of drawing paper, he carefully drawn the pen, and most of the time passed, and finally it was printed on the top of the thatched glass smoked on the thatched grass.
The texture is clearly served, and the hair slightly attached to the face is as good as a real person.
It’s just that the face is still blank.
...
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