blinded by nostalgia.
I want to know that dying can calm me even for a moment | کور شده از نوستالژی.
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Walking home, for a moment
you almost believe you could start again.
And an intense love rushes to your heart, and hope. It's unendurable, unendurable.
A huge amount of freedom comes when you take nothing personally.
I cheer for people. I was raised to believe there's enough sun for everybody.
We do not grow absolutely, 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, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.
Whoever gives nothing has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.