What remains of a voice once it has burned for someone else? What have love's teeth etched amidst my soul?
A collection of fragments stitched from longing, ruin, scent, music and sound. Each piece a ghost reaching for the warmth that scorched it. Echoes navigating the tender wreckage of desire, memory, and identity through layered, sensory writing.
I am quite unsure of what I'm doing here, this work will be an amalgam of random spurs of inspiration.
The lamentation of a few flaps of skin stitched together by circumstances and attempting to appear human..
Language can be and will be : english, french, italian, german, portuguese - it'll depend on the inspiration that'll come expire on a blank page.
Her heart yearned for freedom , but the man she loved was himself a prison .
In a land of ancient traditions, their love was a rebellion!
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"饾悥饾悺饾悶饾惂 饾悽 饾悺饾悮饾悵 饾惂饾惃饾惌饾悺饾悽饾惂饾悹, 饾惒饾惃饾惍 饾悰饾悶饾悳饾悮饾惁饾悶 饾惁饾惒 饾悶饾惎饾悶饾惈饾惒饾惌饾悺饾悽饾惂饾悹" said he .
"The price of love is high but the price of betrayal is even higher ,minaz" she replied.
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饾悞饾惌饾惈饾悽饾悳饾惌 饾悤饾悽饾悳饾悶 饾惄饾惈饾悽饾惂饾悳饾悽饾惄饾悮饾惀 脳 饾惉饾惃饾悷饾惌 饾悺饾悶饾悮饾惈饾惌饾悶饾悵 饾惌饾悶饾悮饾悳饾悺饾悶饾惈