Written Intuition Comments

My eyes shine when in the midst of a dangerous climax. Never in context. I wonder in which fire will I burn for progress. I understand this language. Anguish. Pleasure is pain, an open chest to be surveyn with no contestant. All is shown in five though my home is nine. All the pieces fall so frequently with a frozen spine. "Do I puzzle you". The curve the surge tho imperfect, beautiful.
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