Anatolia, the moving wilderness has been raining for centuries, without changing its appearance
They searched for the bones of the dead in the middle of the night, it was Solomon’s descendants, who confessed their relatives on the earth
But no one recognized the stone mask in the depths of Achnatherum splendens, no one extinguished the gypsophila
Anatolia, the god in the spotlight, it makes humans grow their hair again and the tree bears fruit
Such a quiet season is like ancient times—the wind of ancient times is blowing all over the wilderness
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