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They say, I'll be the hopeless Indian that lives on the street, without an id, a past, or anyone that still knows him... just probably nobody who'll dare write about it, and all because I'd been smart and honest enough to see through the 'eternal illusion'. 

They'll all call me a gay fiend, a real fraud, or even a stalker... perhaps, all for the sake of convention... but, honestly, could you tell me what is it about a lie that cunningly makes it stick to everyone's mind?
— amalgama aka. allan malaga

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