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Manda Morder Dog, the subtle poetry that dazzles peripheral territories
What remains after the fury of the waters? Only the remnants of happy days, reborn in the first hesitant rays of sunlight, poised between a new rainy season and a premature spring.
We walk slowly and without hope; the shadows of happy days await us beneath the now decorative chimneys and the cracked walls — the shadows of happy days.
On the sordid walls, confessions spill out, the raw poetry of the silenced.
