It is summer here and there.
Even though million miles running between our glare.
It is impossible not to care.
About the similarities of our despair.
In between fiction and situation.
In between compassion and recognition.
It cannot be denied that our minds are fusing through a mysterious synchronization.
A Midsummer Night's Dream was in my hand.
As you threw quoted words to your clan.
And at that moment, perhaps, we were connected in another kind of land.
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