Garoa, my sweet childhood

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I wake up again in the same place, but this time the dream is different. I fell that my vains are burning rivers that swayed me by along the forest’s abbys, a enchanted forest. It is cold here and I can fell the humidity of the moss beneath my feets. And I wake up again. I start running through my memory’s laberint and I return to my sweet childhood.

Everything is burning around me, but the memories are invulnerable to the fire. And I dance on the ashes.