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Words can be made by art, but art can not all ways be made by words alone.

Community Member
sitting there as the dense fog rolls in on a windless midnight clouds over head as the tears fall. I've done something horrible. the thunder whispers in the distance as the sound of hounds an men seem to bring a utter hush to these woods. What have i done? my hands heavy with iron and knife in my hands. i recall my father's words. siting there as the dense fog rolls on a windless rainy night.

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