The moon hangs alien heavy like a lock on a door the door is tightly shut. The North
Yevgeny Zamyatin
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But you cant plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods hooted to frighten you swept everything away for the approaching winter whirled the leaves. The North
- Yevgeny Zamyatin -
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We have long become overgrown with calluses we no longer hear people being killed. X
- Yevgeny Zamyatin