Description
Our homeland, an ancient house, crumbling under dust and storm. Its walls scarred, its roof dripping blood. In the silence of night, its moans burn my heart. Come, let’s hold its hands before it collapses.
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Provenance
Our homeland, an ancient house, crumbling under dust and storm. Its walls scarred, its roof dripping blood. In the silence of night, its moans burn my heart. Come, let’s hold its hands before it collapses.
