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When people have dreams

Imagine the world where all people live like they want to live, where people work in their dream - jobs, where they don't have to struggle with their unwanted jobs and do what makes them unhappy. Just imagine the world where people can easily reach their dreams... What about this book? Here is the answer... The man whose name is Skyemoone, who can't love or be happy, lives his own life and spends his days by writing and talking to his students. He has a good life. But one day, he gets tired of everything and he writes a book. The book which will change the whole world. Why it will change the world? Because after people read it, they suddenly understood that they were living the life which they didn't dream of. Suddenly, everyone leaves their jobs. Stops what they were doing. And for what? To make their long forgotten dreams come true. Now, everyone begins to live how they wanted to live but never had a courage to get up and reach their goals. People became free and everything is possible. No one can't stop them. They can commit crime, do many things and nothing can stop them. And all because Professor Skyemoone opened their eyes and showed them that Person should live and achieve his or her goal no matter what. To live like you want to live. And no one will stop you. Isn't it happy world? And now answer, do you think you are strong enough to dream and live like your heart tells you? Because in the end, everything changes so quickly that people can not control their dreams and who they have become.

Leon_Kingraph · Realista
Classificações insuficientes
120 Chs
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Paint my portrait. Part two.

In the very corner of the strange room, where everything was covered in paint and paintings, was a little man made of clay. But it would seem that what could be strange about a man? It was that the clay man was an exact copy of me. Same long hair, same facial features and build. This artist seems to have created this work of art recently. Or maybe a long time ago. For some reason, the longer I stared at the exact replica of myself, I got a little creepy. No, the longer I looked at myself, the more I realized how much I wanted to leave this place. Turning to look at Leon, I still didn't ask about the man. Instead I just continued to watch as Eduardo, a complete stranger to me, continued to paint as if we weren't here.

When another five minutes passed, he put his brush down on the chair and sighed in relief. Behind his broad back, I could see the canvas filled with the colourful world that is now forever imprinted on that surface.