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Acabou nosso tempo.

Amar mais do que a si mesmo. https://youtu.be/2nF6AShMqOc?si=Zty02-wU1edRdOFm

Serpentine Path


 Rippling through the silence, words unfurl like serpents, coiling and uncoiling in a hypnotic symphony. They slither across the canvas of consciousness, etching glyphs of forgotten lore, their hisses resonating with the wisdom of lost worlds. In their dance, language becomes a living entity, each sentence a pulse of life in the stillness of the void.

 Sentences cascade like comets, blazing trails across the firmament of the mind. Each word, a sonic boom, resonates with the force of a thousand suns, detonating paradigms, scattering the stardust of wonder in its wake. These are not mere words; they are celestial events, birthing galaxies of thought in the nebula of imagination.

 In the hush of cosmic expanse, where silence is the canvas, I paint with the screams of dying stars. Each stroke a vibrant echo of stellar demise, a luminous elegy to the passing of giants. And in the whispers of unborn universes, the void murmurs with secrets yet to be, its breath a gentle caress that shapes reality with the subtlety of a dream.


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