Growing late in the year the seaside came upon his path. With the gale and grey Aloysius paused knowing he hadn't intended on this place. Palsy and Quaking he hated years misspent and loves forgotten. Again he longed for lands he had not known. He longed for Nicene's lips, He longed for youth and home.
Under the breath of sea a misplaced memory rang out perfecting his thoughts. Aloysius imbibed and drunk wrought nights sweeter than they were spent. Recast himself the hero in stories he once duly wrote. Aloysius a fool decide to believe these dream, and recapture them rote.
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