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“This afternoon, I walk along the gray paving stones and wonder where I’ll be buried, whether I’ll rot slowly underground or in one of those neatly stacked niches way up high, where a single wilted carnation bears witness to the fleeting nature of memory.” — Marina Yuszczuk
This afternoon, I walk along the gray paving stones and wonder where I’ll be buried, whether I’ll rot slowly underground or in one of those neatly stacked niches way up high, where a single wilted carnation bears witness to the fleeting nature of memory.