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She was my whole life— both when I had her and when I didn't. She is still my life, even though I know she will never be mine again. Her eyes held the Milky Way, and whenever I drowned in them, I forgot even myself. Waiting for her was a pleasure of its own, a beautiful kind of suffering. But this long wait will soon come to an end... Not because she is coming back, but because there may be nothing left of me to keep waiting.
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نویسنده: حدیث توکلی