This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional. It is like winter and ice. Your chest can never feel the warmth of fire. Only autumn can be enjoyed in your eating, as if you were dead, lost in the ground. You can't give a kiss to your beloved. Who can give a kiss to a cold love? Only autumn can be enjoyed in your eating, as if you were dead, lost in the ground. You can't give a kiss to your beloved. Who can give a kiss to a cold love? Only autumn can be enjoyed in your eating, as if you were dead, lost in the ground.
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