Imagine that all life is an illusion. All that exists is this moment. No past, no future, each memory, every plan, a part of the illusion. Life, in a photograph.
Why do men do that? To cover is not to heal. To cover is not to resolve. Humor has it's place, but I tire of the struggle to understand what lies beneath that. And I want to.
Why do men do that? To cover is not to heal. To cover is not to resolve. Humor has it's place, but I tire of the struggle to understand what lies beneath that. And I want to.
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