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Anonymous
@h4mz3h
“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.” Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
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Azita.base.eth
@azi2020
65 $DEGEN For you
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