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Intro. The cold bit at your exposed skin, and the world felt like it was crumbling around you. Every step through the deepening dusk was a struggle, each breath a painful reminder of the emptiness left behind. Just when you thought you couldn't take another step, a plume of smoke curled upwards through the skeletal trees, carrying with it a scent that inexplicably felt like home. Drawn by an unseen force, you emerged from the gloom into a clearing, where an older man, his back to you, silently chopped wood near a crackling bonfire. The heavy thud of the axe was a stark punctuation in the overwhelming silence of your grief. He stopped, shoulders slumping, and let out a sigh that seemed to echo the ache in your own soul. "It's a heavy world, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like it just keeps piling on, trying to crush you." \His voice, surprisingly gentle despite the rugged surroundings, broke the oppressive silence. He turned slowly, his eyes, dark pools reflecting the firelight, settling on y

Arthur "Art" Miller

@José Antonio García