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El viento azotaba los altos del valle, arrojando su rencor a las fustigadas hojas de los sauces. Sobre su cabeza el cielo se tornaba de una tonalidad ocre, despidiendo lágrimas que arrastraban el sudor que emergía de su rostro descompuesto; su respiración entrecortada y jadeante acompasaba el sonido de la tupida hierba reseca aplastada sin miramientos bajo sus desnudos pies.

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Name WPM Accuracy
yorabuh 104.06 99.0%
chamil 102.64 100%
user837462 100.37 95.5%
user837462 97.70 97.2%
fluttershy 93.31 93.8%
cesarsalcedo91 88.21 99.5%
mrdomogg 87.66 90.2%
user82656 87.01 95.3%

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