Sinopse
some were fictions, and some were not. the lies within the stories I've written, tradegy, and love. happiness, and fate, emotions that can see through the future, writtened with my own fingers, palm.
and by all that, I've had enough. my stories were never meant for someone, a piece of my head, a piece of my memory in my imagination.
a wild, wide imagination that not anybody can know, keeping low, and writing with passion.
welcome to my book of my imagination.
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