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True stories of a widow

Go to sleep, my husband.
Sleep and rest.
Dreams quietly, but not too much.
You know how dreams are, we perfectly know.
Like actors.
So desirous of applause, able to do anything to keep the curtain open.

The last dream, then, is the most vain between them.
A trap in the form of paradise tailored to the hero of the day.
There is time, my love.
There is still time.
An eternity, they say.
Well, I 'm not ready for so much.

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