Starry, starry night, portraits hung in empty halls, frameless heads on nameless walls with eyes that watch the world and can't forget, like the strangers that you've met. The ragged men in ragged clothes, the silver thorn, a bloody rose lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2252 | 2024-04-10 13:39:11 | 63.22 | 97.1% |
| 2152 | 2024-04-04 05:09:43 | 62.29 | 96% |