The string had been passed through a mixture of ground glass powder. And glued.
The kite was flown: courageously he raised above the cloud.
Just so high. Only so high. Then he was cut loose and fallen.
Still he struggled to float, trying to touch the blue color.
Trying to pass the messages.
Trying to reach the unreachable you.
Did you read them?
Did you see it, before I lost the fight?
Did you see it, before I lost the fight?
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