The mystery of why we do not forget, but decorated with memory nostalgia. One recalls the beauty of the house, bigger, more beautiful than it was. And the poor rough bricks are painted with an elegant synonym for warmth and creaking old door stop to never close to a friend, those hard-pruned vines that are evergreen ... Two beauties fighting each other: that of the distant, irretrievable or simply untouchable, or actually even more beautiful but colored in sepia.
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