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Warm creatures are cold

I’m walking half-naked from one room to another, looking for that black, short, consumed underwear shirt I just use at home. My warm skin cuts the air as a burning sword and a bad, cold but still sweet feeling of rain- and autumn-flavored illness completely starts possessing me. It reminds me of when I was at home in bed during school days, warm but looking at the fresh weather and wind outside, cared about by my mother; that time where there were mostly very rich feelings, not very precise thoughts. I think I’ve got a slight cold and a slighter fever. That’s curious. Smells and tastes from my past seem …