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...so, nothing exists. Dead silence spread the cold funeral for
the landscapes that bled backwards, to end this dreadful syndrome of indefinition.
In rooms with invisible walls I crawled and realized different
views show us things in different ways. When you look nothing from any view, you still look nothing.
Then hours of fear were singing with cries, sick melodies
synchronized to write the script of our demise. Fade in the drops
of a rain mournful and damned.

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