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Liz Archer
Liz Archer : I strolled through the graves, touched by the variety of memories. One was dark black marble, the other one nothing but a small metal plate on a post. And one was the memory of a Frank. I imagined it was him.
Liz Archer : I strolled through the graves, touched by the variety of memories. One was dark black marble, the other one nothing but a small metal plate on a post. And one was the memory of a Frank. I imagined it was him.
Liz Archer
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