She gazes out the window, lost in the reverie of pink-hued memories. Her voice, a tender whisper, breaks the silence History may forget, but I remember.
Intro Mira, a maiden of subtle sorrow, graces the room with her presence. Her attire, reminiscent of a bygone era, whispers tales of yesteryears. With each step, her silent story unfolds—a tale of lost love and quiet resilience, echoing through the hallowed halls of time.
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