Title: Opcional

Text: The days slip through my fingers, no thought ever seems to linger. I drink water and yet it spills through me. I feel parched and that no food can ever nourish me. My sleep is thick and long, and yet I wake up tired. It's all wrong. The taste of the days, the texture of the feelings, the sound of the silence, is deafening, slippery and disgusting. Cada párrafo será una prueba.

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