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Chronicle of Passing Days

Mother Dear
He lay down in his uniform, pulled the blanket over his head, and tried to fall asleep. Sleep, however, didn’t take orders, and that evening it did not answer pleas. The film returned to his mind, but this time it wasn’t his own. He saw dark blue ink and a woman’s name he had never heard before, which now, for some reason, sounded as if he had known it his whole life.
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A Chronicle of Inspiration
