This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.
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It was with a sense of tremendous trepidation that I began to type the following short story of Sherlock Holmes. I can only but hope that in my caprice of audacity, I have not desecrated the holy grave of one of the greatest writers our time, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I first read Sherlock Holmes...
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