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Somewhere in life, before the beginning and after it, in the lands that hopes haven't bloomed yet, in lives and maybe long before it, there was a story. Telling about you and me. And there was also time. Solved in the space, following us secretly. It is said that the beginnings come with the ends. But there is a beginning in every end. Because life is hidden in continuum and to have continuum, you have to live. Sometimes existence stands in between two reasons and a result. And sometimes existence is like a blooming spring in nothingness. Like HOPE.
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