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■ The oak
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As outside the street dogs were licking their own wounds,
looking for people to caress them a little, the wolf was walking in a too small cage for his begged freedom, a sad body, always hungry, his teeth were glittering on a certain radius of the circle with deep anger. When the fatigue entered him He slept and dreamed a borderless land. We left, and the sounds in the neighborhood almost lost their lives, the wilderness died. Then, as when you get used after breathing a couple of times, Everything got back to normal. It is like a reconciliation I thought, Like the moment you put your hands out for the hungry dogs Jumping around you to lick your fingers, but suddenly stop just before hurting you, they never cross the line.
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