dbFragment.com
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As we move farther away from the firth, the breeze becomes gentle. It flows over our naked skin like some ethereal liquid. Skin is so strange, it feels so foreign. I didn't think I could continue to live with out my plumage. Not long after my apprehension they stripped me of feathers. Now I can never return home, these morbid humans have successfully imprisoned me on this mote of spinning dust.
