I simply grieved and wept, for I was heartbroken and had lost my joy. Or is weeping, too, a bitter thing, becoming a pleasure only when the things we once enjoyed turn loathsome and only as long as our dislike for them remains
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I like writing because it helps me discover myself and dive deep into complex topics. And you know what I discovered recently? That once you care too much about what other people think, you lost the game. I’ll support my point with an example. Check out this video of 2 cute babies talking to each...
As the fire dwindled, my eyes closed in half-dreaming. I was warm, and the ground beneath me was soft with mossad fallen leaves.
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I do not need to say that my panic swelled, that it became a live thing, slippery and deaf to reason. My steps grew hurried; the kitchen, the basement, the storerooms with their amphorae of oil and wine. And still I did not find him.
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