It appears to be a bubonic age; feelings pave the way for the return to the crusade of inner reason. Dearth questions the distinction between hegemony and interior engineering, lest it destroy the bond of the crusade, few healing words necessary to be written. Though your teachings are always Herculean and agitated, in my holistic genre, however, fragility supplants and is meant to be a pivot. Yes, I strive and I feel a stigmatization of the agony, nevertheless, what about our plan, fraternity and accreditation? You broke it, right? Why I can't question you? I need to decipher myself. Please come back to me, you promised to be my anodyne; what about that promise? Doesn't that sound like deception?

Your memories haunt me, I can't live with that anymore, where do we go with that?

I didn't learn anything new, since your departure, because the homogeneity was our amity, we are partners, I want some concerns to be cleared between us, meanwhile, I'm worried about fragrant galvanized garnishes. The horrific moments of your departure, scuffles of crying the last appearance which gets a sight to flail.

I am always looking for a herald of your coming to us, I want your experiences and explorations, pleading to get diatribes to carry this lunatic.