letra de commence - slugweed
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well that is sort of fascinating, i guess. it doesn’t seem to be particularly bothered by one’s moments. but how it just stands there and looks onwards and scans from the pure distance between the two dimensions, if you may call them. how does that happen? is it real? is it life? i really really cannot begin to explain these therapeutic moments
if you want to learn how to get this mess, then you really need to sit down and just talk with yourself. does it matter where all these thoughts come from? how you rationally think about reasons? think
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