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Another Gloomy Sky In November

The sunless evening is deprived of its ardent and vivid colors, the mischievous clouds in their hastiness extend their thin and tenebrous veil increasing my body's chill. They intensify the dreary darkness invading the lively landscapes under a silent universe so distant and squalid, less fascinating and mysteriously far to be contemplated for its blazing sunsets... besides the frightful sensations that billow and imitate every approaching shadow as they detach themselves completely from the contemptuous soul liberating itself with painful groans of dissidence, refusing to alleviate their heartwrenching cry; denying their sympathy with insolence. I'm staring at another gloomy sky in November, it's menacing and ready to be transformed into a storm more violent than a tropical hurricane of summer; a loud thunder is heard followed by a sheet of lightning that knocks down those vulnerable, aged trees falling on the yellowed dry grass and on the bare bushes that was the home of the cyclamen rendering them harmonious, seldom sad; who remembers how they lulled by the gentlest wind of this past spring in the well-tended gardens of the smallest town... did someone smell the fragrant roses only parched by the hottest sun? The shady, undulating pines are being caressed by the brisk breeze accelerating the marching evening gloomier than a moonless night too enmeshed in a sense of sadness that deepens the emotional feeling... missing the absence of the blazing light that blinds the eyes as darkness and fright cast shadows on the fields of drooping sunflowers ready to declare their demise more than the gelid air that freezes the steaming breath and decrease the temperature of the cold body willing to enwreathe itself with the instinct to warm up by a campfire consuming a balmy pine. ,

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