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A stitch

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It always seem so long, although the times flies by, and it’s suddenly gone.
Memories are collected and forgotten, all to come back and remind us again.
Every day we are being sewn and completed with small stitches at the time, so that we won’t even notice we are being sewn on. We wake up one day and we are done, but we might notice that one stitch is sewn wrong, and the whole product is ruined. Or is it unique?





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