A hard shell of black leather covered the ancient novel of a book in my hands. It had been found in my uncles old attic, inside an old shoe box. Each crisp page had been edged with a gold covering. But the pages were empty. Not a speckle of ink. That was the moment when I began to write...
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Today you're you, thats truer than true, there is no-one alive who is you-er than you X
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