Reason

The end begins to timely unfold, a synopticism alluding to the past a little. A journey once propelled by a smothering passion comes to a close, and begins again, a smothering passion—albeit fleeting—rekindles and tenderly permeates so seemingly slowly, like the passing of seasons. Winter still creeps in the shade, but soon it will all be reasonable.
Far away, an old discourse continues quietly, continues, the rain softly beating on the windowpane.

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