id: 4075465
He began work at 5:30 and quit at 7 at night. His hair torn out of his head, his scalp torn off, and yet he sheds not even a single tear, while the poodle dogs were loved and caressed and carried to the seashore he was working amidst the crowded streets. His childhood\'s joy was a little tip he received, his smile was a hand on his head. Lost between the thought to smile as a child or frown as a child-laborer to a picture, he worked hard thinking in pursuit of getting better, not knowing that small hands can handle a pen better.
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