I don't know to call it yet
The year 2055
1:20 a.m
A slightly tall young boy was sitting at a beautifully hand-carved gray stone table of his room writing something in the pages of a light blue book that was opened to the first four pages. He casually looked up from writing on the left page gazing out his wide square window in front of him. Suddenly before his eyes a beautiful horse-drawn carriage drove past. -by me
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