timeout of the fantastic memories... in the ghettoes of gurtabelos...the football days..the bloody fights..and most of all the flowers and the adolescent love story....time out of all that...next morning the whistle will blow and the iron rails will roll for a million miles...days away from home
if the world ever gets to know the darkness of the minds that lurk inconsequentially in the alleys of the underworld....we would find an evening to lounge in the marine draive without fear.....time to recapitulate all the sounds of blasts..... hollering cries from the archangels of the city...yet no hand of care coming forward....
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