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Old buildings, which stink of the past, no longer tore through her nostrils, forcing her to indulge in her mistakes; no more intimidation. Instead there were trees, allowing her to breathe. And to breathe she felt ever grateful and to breathe because she wanted to not because she had to. The only blood which was flowing, was the blood inside of her body; no more wounds. No sarcasm, no judgement, no pressure. Ever so slowly, the Earth became a fragment of the girl's system. Polluted skies and blood-like eyes now locked up in those, old, helpless buildings.