Every late at night, I always think of my mother.

What she was like when she was there.

If she were, what would it be like now?

He recalled it over and over again, for fear that he would completely forget what his mother looked like.

So I recalled all the best memories of my memory and my mother over and over again.

Over and over again, over and over again.

He seemed to be tireless, stubbornly in his memories

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