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Friday, December 14, 2012
From a shopping mall in the Pacific Northwest to an elementary school in the East, we as a nation mourn the loss. We hold into those we love a bit tighter and we collectively hope for a better tomorrow.
All the years combine, they melt into a dream. A broken angel sings from a guitar. In the end there's just a song comes crying like the wind, through all the broken dreams and vanished years. -- R Hunter