Chipping, Producing from a pinewood to the toothpick.
She has cropped an inorganic matter in her body.
He’s suffocating in the sea of estrogen.
You stray from your bloodline, you yield yourself for a strange effect.
Once revarded, once hit even as a dog on a training, to behold the etiquette and the limit between grown man and child.
So many kind of men, so many kind of personalities.
Do we agree with anyone?
I have passed the main period of my life, and this pendulum won't swing anymore.
It rests in calm and peace, I think the poise has been restored.
I’m facing my reflection, there is no parallelism, nor chiral symmetry
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