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The rains touch the strings / of his air / and, above, he is the chorus that utters / the sound of fertility / There were many animals, he is…
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The rains touch the strings / of his air / and, above, he is the chorus that utters / the sound of fertility / There were many animals, he is…
The confinement from which I write is at the same time both a sentence and a luxury. Like many other people across the entire world, I have spent several months…
