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Summary
Despite his expertise in taking words at face-value, Albedo astutely catches the suggestive lilt that tremors from your vocal chords. What once was his soft, warmhearted visage crafted from pastel clouds is now tinted with roses and . . . comprehension, the kind that arises after a timid sun on a seashore. It’s a slow, trailing warmth that exudes to where you hold your hand and heart in your palm.