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FICTION

"So there I was, walking the paths I walked in my childhood. I look at the houses of friends who have ceased to exist a long time ago. Their images faded like the morning mist. The trees looked bigger than before, and the houses were properly shaped and sized. I was savoring every iconic detail. Each encounter with the shadows, monsters, and objects had moved me in a way almost impossible to describe. Sometimes I found myself smiling so passionately that tears came to my eyes, pure nostalgia."

By Mauro C. Souza

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The Son of Man

"A violin song, the sound of subway trains and cars, the smell of fresh coffee, all things invade the city without asking for permission. He notices the morning lights come to the wall, creating a strange creature form."

By Mauro C. Souza

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