Life is like an office file, on each drawer to a letter, which belongs to a person who we love or hate, with whom we discussed or joked. It was as if everything was so easy, but we can not categorize people and etequita them with all that we live with them, and if someone would open this file and find out our secrets? Secrets shared with people who just want to forget. That is not how our memory works? have kept everything, and always want to forget something in the heart, it behind us back to mind. She is not bad, we just want to prevent, not to make the same mistakes we.
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