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The Spirit Of A Writer
The smell of ink on the wooden table enticed my nose to the abandoned house
Where ants prey on a tattered slip of papers lying on the bare floor
And broken pens of various colors assembled in a tomato tin
In a house with no human
I can feel the...
Where ants prey on a tattered slip of papers lying on the bare floor
And broken pens of various colors assembled in a tomato tin
In a house with no human
I can feel the...
