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memories warm you up from the inside... but they also tear you apart — haruki murakami, kafka on the shore.
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sen pencere çiçeğisin, ne işin var mezarda.
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"Sesini duyunca ötüşmeye başlar, göğüs kafesimdeki o suskun kuşlar."
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yıkalım demiyorum, örmüşsün o kadar ama pencere mi açsak bu duvarlara, hem kuşları görürsün, belki çiçek koyarsın önlerine. ne bileyim.
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