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Staring at the image of this ruined building, I am struck by the raw cross-section of lives once lived within its walls. The exposed rooms, each with their unique wallpaper, tell silent stories of families, laughter, and everyday struggles.
You can almost imagine the routines: morning coffee by a window now shattered, a child’s first steps on a floor now buried in rubble, quiet evenings spent under a ceiling that no longer exists. The remnants of furniture, a broken lamp, a forgotten toy—these are not just debris, but echoes of human presence. 9 replies
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