Nothing is the same in this place.
Here it's not "turning over a new leaf",
and there is no clean linen of snow.
The colors turn like something decaying.
Curdled milk falls from the dirty glass above,
won't allow me to forget my first true love.
":american".
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"Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?"-Holly Golightly
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