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zhakoisreading 's review for:
White Nights
by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Мои ночи кончились утром.
Одиночество, безответная любовь, иллюзии и мечты под серым, дождливым небом Петербурга.
Scarily relatable.
We all had or will have those white nights full of love and affection that will inevitably end one morning, leaving us more empty than ever before.
What’s life, really?