When I was eight years old, I got a strange disease and all my memories before the age of eight disappeared. Ten years later, when I went back to move my grandfather's grave, I learned that I only had two years and eight months left to live...
When I finally retrieved my memories from before I was eight years old, I suddenly understood that those white bones swarming towards me were not screaming about resurrection, resurrection, but the restoration of the country, the restoration of the country...
(It's not a harem, it's not routine, it's not invincible, it's not systematic, it's not brainless, it's not a good article, please be careful if you mind.)
