born ... Why is it to know what you want to be? And I will have to stop? Take part in this game of Russian dolls in which I will be the echo of her mother, as is that of her grandmother and great-grandmother and so on from time immemorial?! Stop waiting and forget where this is all the excitement? It can not wait to come back tomorrow, always asking God not to promise anything, being able to always know that death does not exist. Why do we always define the boundaries? System within the margins of existence that we have built ...?
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