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By flamy at 11/09/2008 - 17:06
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The sun was shining as bright as the eyes of the little boy who had just hatched a plan to catch his brother masturbating: mischievous and full of innocent malice. A whiff of ice-cold air whipped him and took his breath away as he stepped out of the air-conditioned airport. The sun was still as bright, only now it was snickering with delight and hiding behind a flimsy cloud. The sky was pure - more pure than he had ever seen.
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By flamy at 10/18/2008 - 17:58
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This cursed inertia:
embittered and encumbered.
Manacled by the malice of fantasia.
Chains of solid lumber.
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