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Scent of greasepaint lingers, as doth a line rehears’d too oft to forget. Ingénue who-vainished-ere. ‘’I live now not for hope. Memory, nor. For presence: Endureth love, though mind decayeth ‘𖬺. years consume. (I,—@milmf)
Updated: 2026-07-04
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Tracked since 2026-05-14 · last ad check 2026-07-10 07:43 UTC