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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2009-08-15 | [Este texto deve ser lido em english] | Submetido por Elena Kostenczyk
This was the time of the day when I wished I were able to sleep.
Highschool. Or was purgatory the right word? If there was any way to atone for my sins, this ought to count toward the tally in some measure. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last. I suppose this was my form of sleep - if sleep was defined as the inert state between active periods. (For the full version of this chapter please follow-up to the Romanian translation)
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