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■ The oak
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After the darkness has fallen,
On a foggy bridge in Cyprus, Two statues were slowly walking towards each other, Unknowingly. Her name... could have been Margot And she had a black swan as a consacrated attendant. The unnamed man on the other side Was accompanied by a white owl. Both birds kept quiet, Only the silence dared to kiss Their owners’ smooth ivory foreheads. If it was fate or a curse coming from the past That had been making them move that night Is of no importance. Maybe they won’t even notice one another, In the middle of the bridge, When arriving there together. Or maybe their search was motivated By the forces of the yearning Venus, A wizard’s spell or pure curiosity. And who could tell, As the distance grew shorter, Who would be the hunter And who would be the prey, or, in fact, If there will be a hunter and a prey at all. That night, so full of frangrances, Occured in June And a love or a tragic story Was about to be born Once again.
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