waits for the day she smells fresh rain again. Gets energised by nature. These days she just wants to get enough rest and is busy setting up a place which she can call home for the next 2 years.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned. Edna St. Vincent Millay
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