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Fragment of a letter found on April 26, 1986.
Of that woman full of life and hopes, dreams and longings, there is only a vestige full of evil and HUNGER to be satisfied, an empty shell that seeks to satisfy her most primitive desires. She is now all darkness, a withered flower that takes its last breaths in the middle of a desert full of death and putrefaction. Only history and time can tell how much I loved her.
For that woman whom I loved so much and will continue to love, both in life and in death.
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