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I hear a complaint arise from the depths of silence. The endless whining of an old man in agony, the cry of a child who struggles against death. And this wind, which in his rage, his jealous rage, raises a golden dust that penetrates every orifice of my body. Alas, I will not hold a few minutes with these deadly blows.
6 comments
...but... - ...c'mon... - ...seriously!?... - Is it really necessary to do it the hard way!?
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Cool capture and pose.
Great narrative !
.. the rough way back