Epigraph

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"Caroline, bearer of my mistakes, dancing wind through my willow tree. My sin, my virtue. Ca-ro-line; the song of my happiness in three short syllables, rolling off the tongue with such ease. Ca. Ro. Line.                        
She was only Caroline at three in the morning, plain Caroline...the true Caroline. With her skin as creamy as porcelain stained with the tears of the unwritten pain of her heart. With such beauty she drifted off to sleep, sun-streaked locks hiding the petal lids of her mesmeric blue eyes. She was royalty to the world, but an intimate lover to me. For I, fell in love with a beautifully broken woman. Caroline."

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