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Friday, March 01, 2013

A game


He loved to call himself Victor Hugo. All of his neighbors thought he was mad. Wherever he went, he would wear this kinky black lace dress and draw circles in his long white curly hear. The century’s have past, but in his eyes, the elegance and the creativity of a poet were running in his blue blood. He would drink ink before he went to sleep; “a one shot” he'd say, to dream of beautiful words he could design in his imagination the way he wanted, in a world with no limits.

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