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- He's probably her uncle. - He's not her uncle.
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I doubt they've ever even met.
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Sold for an orchard, poor Natasha.
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Right, let's get back to Pelageya.
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You know, perhaps it might be best to explore these difficult
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and raw emotions through the medium of a poem.
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Poor Natasha.
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Looks like third degree frost bite.
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Three verst from here, we found him lying under a pine tree.
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On the edge of the glade, near the old foot bridge, you know the one.
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So beautiful in the sunrise.
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The snow twinkling like a sea of diamonds.