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... ay on my bed. My mother’s thin and supple fingers would comb through my hair, and she would sometimes mischievously pinch my nose. Feeling comfortable and a little sleepy, I would talk to Emilia and her about my dream.


I would like to wear such beautiful dresses, I want to wear bright and colorful jewelry … … The dream of a young child is infinite, and talking to mother was never exhausting.


How nostalgic it is. It is such a long time ago.


I won ...

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