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Keep running, don't look back, till you reach a land where the land is purple. There, we will have cappuccino in the clouds and watch as the poor miserable souls struggle.

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We do not grow absolutly, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, the present, and the future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
— Anais Nin (via quote-book)