Paris is far away, too far to fall down around me.
not travel far distance, or the time it would take me. Is the distance that the noise makes me feel really cold strangers crossing paths between words.
Paris is not the place, but the old essence of defeat, the severed hand seeking an object in space is not that never was, never will be. Paris is the jailer to nest in your vienre, patching each scab, apologize unjust causes and hopeless cases. Paris
conflict.
Paris is the problem.
Arde Paris is not ... but still the conflict.
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