The story of my life doesn’t exist. Does not exist. There’s never any center to it. No path, no line. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it’s not true, there was no one.
“When I gaze upon the sky And the sea below, I cry, Thus be poetry and love, Deep beneath and bright above.”
Walter Savage Landor | “Reflection from Sea and Sky”
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