my room is a classic museum if one was ever keen to read my life as a book, on a random sunday morning. a large collection of my belongings are wildly consumed by dust/camouflaged by rust/invisible. while many used to mean the world to me, most are now memories solely for reminiscence purposes (aged people have this bad habit. i heard it makes them feel younger).
anyway, enough said, it is time for springcleaning!
trash evacuation!
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