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           Where does my life begin? When I was born or when it made sense? What if I'm wrong! His weak assumptions bring me down before I even get to experience it. My ideas evolve over and over again. They jump out of my mind like an arrow. Some collide in the air, some bump into the wall. A war-torn ruin, a debris ... Wow! That magnificent structure has become! Darkness everywhere, dusty soil ... My path, the path deviating lines determine. Is it my brain or my ideas? As the screams in my ears diminish, I can hear my surviving ideas. Criminals are punished by not thinking about it again; the rotting ones are the eternity of sin…

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