windows

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look … look close, my gaze the shine of what endures … can you not see the toil of my father - the glint of my mother's care? do the joys of childhood and the ache of young loves, lost not shimmer in those depths? look, yet, my eyes beyond the white and absinthe plunge those oily, breathless blacks ... a brand dances there, yet flickering for the dreams not realized the lone, weary heart unwanted and the songs ... unsung.

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