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Sottotitolo 1

It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand

It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted parts of sentences fly into your mouth. Far far away, behind the word mountains, far from the countries Vokalia and Consonantia, there live the blind texts. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand

Sottotitolo 2

Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would

Sottotitolo 3

The copy warned the Little Blind Text, that where it came from it would have been rewritten a thousand times and everything that was left from its origin would be the word "and" and the Little Blind Text should turn around and return to its own, safe country. But nothing the copy said could convince her and so it didn’t take long until a few insidious Copy Writers ambushed her, made her drunk with Longe and Parole and dragged her into their agency, where they abused her for their projects again and again. It is a paradisematic country, in which roasted

Separated they live in Bookmarksgrove right at the coast of the Semantics, a large language ocean. When she reached the first hills of the Italic Mountains, she had a last view back on the skyline of her hometown Bookmarksgrove, the headline of Alphabet Village and the subline of her own road, the Line Lane. The Big Oxmox advised her not to do so, because there were thousands of bad Commas, wild Question Marks and devious Semikoli, but the Little Blind Text didn’t listen. Pityful a rethoric question ran over her cheek, then she continued her way. The Big Oxmox advised her