Ah, my love-deprived friend, what am I ever to do with you?

I must confess. I went back and flipped the pages of history, read and unearthed stories we used to tell each other. Time has passed and still, you are plagued with nothing else than your own stubborn self. What must I do to make you see the beauty of life fleeting around you? That effervescent glow whose origin seems to be around the corner. But, here you are, sitting in a fetal position by the corner, hiding from it all.

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