"YOU ARE A FOOL, VINCENT" AND THE SKY WEEPS. BY AUGUST, WORD SPREADS YOU WERE THE CAUSE OF YOUR RUIN. DEATH IS NOT LAUGHTER ACROSS THE ROOM. DON'T YOU REMEMBER THE SUMMER BELONGING TO YOU? YOU'RE A SHATTERED IMAGE MEANT TO BE DIVIDED INTO PIECES. BY DECEMBER, THEY LOVE YOU TOO LATE. IF ONLY THEY HAD GLUED YOU BACK TOGETHER EARLIER.
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