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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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Tii minte vara aceea
cind nisipul se lipise de trupul incins, tu scrijeleai infante si curtezane japoneze linga sinul meu sting si imi spuneai rizind ca ma desenezi pe mine, iar eu aproape ca te credeam dar a inceput sa ploua, a ramas doar urma risului tau pe pielea mea si inca citeva infante triste si singerinde.
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