Up near Tierras Salvajes there are a couple rivers that dont go anywhere.
Up near Tierras Salvajes there are a couple rivers that dont go anywhere.
This cavern is below all, and is the foe of all. It is hatred, without exception. This cavern knows no philosophers; its dagger has never cut a pen. Its blackness has no connection with the sublime blackness of the inkstand. Never have the fingers of night which contract beneath this stifling ceiling, turned the leaves of a book nor unfolded a newspaper.
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