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“In grief, days come wrapped in mist, with a lake, still, in the eyes, for every teardrop has gathered there, longing to fall, but the lips have lost every word. And the search begins, the search for light. That is when the fire strikes.” — Jayita Bhattacharjee
In grief, days come wrapped in mist, with a lake, still, in the eyes, for every teardrop has gathered there, longing to fall, but the lips have lost every word. And the search begins, the search for light. That is when the fire strikes.