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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-03-14 | [This text should be read in english] | Submited by Valeria Pintea
The truth is in the prologue. Death to the romantic fool,
to the expert in solitary confinement, I’m the same as the teacher from Colombia, the rotarian from Philadelphia, the merchant from Paysandu who save his silver to come here. We all arrive by different streets, by unequal languages, at Silence.
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