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Before my breath found its rhythm, mother wandered our eternal winter, where pain danced with snowflakes, and blood wrote its sorrow upon the boundless canvas of white. With a whisper cast to the heavens, she wished for me: her daughter, a harmony of contrasts โ
Dr. Bettina Sieber๐ค
Alberto Garcรญa ๐๐๐
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What a powerful start. Love it.
Author. I write about spirituality, philosophy, and self-improvement. Learn how to use spiritual-help as a skill that generates wealth and happiness.
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