There’s a place where we belong.

And when the night covers the sky and everybody sleeps, it starts to tinge of dark. The tingle of the darkness shudders all your soul, and by the first time you can understand all around you. Or misinterpret. Or become crazy, and hopes and expectations become grotesquely tragic. The quiet of the nighttime let you hear your heavy entrails. The isolation of your corpse let you feel the density, from the air, from the lungs, from the  soul. From the dark.

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