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<div class="text-justify">In the halls where silence reigns, the night lowers its gaze, like an anonymous friar serving his sentence. The stars hang like promises fallen from the sky, and the wet stone whispers prayers that no one knows.

<br>The moon, an impassive spectator, dyes the shattered glass red, while the shadow draws ashes on the dust. Each footprint is an echo that refuses to die, and in the darkness, lost love still knows how to implore.</div>