Text race history for Andrés (andresmosquera)

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The withered leaves collect at my feet and the wind begins to moan. Memory, all alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days, life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory live again.

Game Time WPM Accuracy
942 2023-07-01 03:25:42 60.96 95%