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𝕺 𝕭 𝖘 𝖈 𝖀 𝕽 𝖀 𝖘

Last Login:
October 13th, 2019

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Gender: Male

Age: 114
Country: United States

Signup Date:
February 22, 2019



03/14/2019 03:07 PM 

From New York to Paris


 There ought for me to see this city with the eyes on an old man, as by body is dead and my name buried in the news from the children of the streets who shouts, the paper, the paper I see now that wasen't me and likewise chased by the Manhattan multitude that from block to block in the great apple purchased a dream, the dried nicotine buds in the concrete of this floor that how further along million feet shunned by all them till night, because I was starting to believe that the church organs in the cathedral of Saint Patrick, claimed to announce the coming of our redemption to the golden heavens I was once a child for you my lord and now as the gates are open and my spirit is set free. I know, I know how special you can turn to be when you can't stop me.

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A stray workingman putting his coat, after his wife kissed him goodbye peering into the strangers as one among, and then a team of dogs unguarded flaked their tails happily as the Irish gangsta of New York, showing their falling tongues to the side with a smile drawing the adventures on their doggy faces, what more wounds could they have than my hands. If they had no pain for the many fights they had, cos they had each other to troll around, and if you keep walking behind the building and the next you seem them all belonging to some sort of end to pull the day and as the echoes in my mind could recall, in a morning and the next, that all I have is hanging in my neck. 

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  It still so pervasive the gentle gesture in which yesterday you had me, and those shouts for freedom in the subway that for the first time there is no attachments, and where ever you are, I can walk with the dignity for I pertain to carry on regardless I'm a grown up boy, or a young man. So, walking in the murder scene were I'm very much part to the crimes, took the money of my adopted dead mother, satisfied for the injuries she made are nothing more but a little bag of coins to carry on. So, be it, possibly at home and impossible to anticipate my travels looked for my birth certificate and placed carefully folded a few garments on a old small suitcase making my way to the port were after purchasing a ticket to Paris walk along the market place, were a man was roasting hazelnuts atop a small chariot he had with four bicycle weals. A few pennies were enough and I had never got one for myself, so I crack them with my teeth and pealed the hard shelled burning my lips, but how exquisite to be able to taste its tender inside, without the need of hearing shouts for food.

Curious of mine as admiring around the new travelers who stepped for the first time in their dream of the New World, curved my back cleaning my mouth with a now filled stomach, pocketed my hands as a rich man and took my boat to Paris.

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 The propelling oars as the engines took locomotion, held my hands to the edges of the boat, my heart ached to know of my mother and father. Began largely to see that at any side of this world will work my way to find what I think to deserve, and the travelers waved them handkerchiefs and the ladies their headscarf in the air, could just hold my hat on my head for the windy day, astonish by the parting multitude I loved to be one among this boat.


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