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It was beneath the trees of the grounds belonging to me, memoirs, an author, writing my life stories, seeing, and consuming things corrupt, destroy, subvert of honesty, and integrity. and on the bleak sides of the woodless mountains near, being writen by others, watching by others, seeing things differently as my eyes do, only consuming the positive things that my eyes dont. as i watch this, i relize and learn more things that i have always kept out of sight, that maybe, these willl bring me near my true compositions that airy the flights of my imagination, and be born and fostered