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Cradle of words
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Dry Pulp
Marred by the expectations of the early trailer, a picture that seemed so soft and free was not so appealing, yet when running to the...
The Movement.
The fanatic rode the snake in his blue bus, so did the Cobain doped himself so early, there was no voodoo child left anymore, because...
Black Magic
Frozen, fallen from that iceberg, he slipped into the cold blue river, entering the deep abyss of that mystery, was the never-ending road...
A poetry blog, for the not so poet in you
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