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all the places you go taste the history breathe the stories the essence the air heavy with magic take a sip of the soul of the land then leave a bit of you for the next traveler
There is but a tapestry Woven over the years Laced with the delicate lives Of all those who lived before me   I am but a single thread Spinning endlessly until My end, just a piece
Words swirl inside my head like pillars of light, I grasp onto the strands and wait: I wait for them to makes sense, Incoherent buzzes of truth are all I have.
We are imperceptibly bound by the common chords of our humanity; colored threads weaving a rich tapestry of shared experience. Our similitude outshines our differences;
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