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J'aime l'automne, cette triste saison va bien aux souvenirs. Quand les arbres n'ont plus de feuilles, quand le ciel conserve encore au crepuscule la teinte rousse qui dore l'herbe fanee, il est doux de regarder s'eteindre tout ce qui naguere brulait encore en vous.
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- Created August 28, 2020
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November 14, 2020 | Edited by Lisa | Merge works |
November 14, 2020 | Edited by Lisa | Merge works |
October 27, 2020 | Edited by Lisa | merge authors |
August 28, 2020 | Created by ImportBot | Imported from Better World Books record |