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Postlar arxiv
Those who were taken, whose lives were cut short, didn't vanish. Their atoms that made up their bodies, the same ones that once burned inside stars, are now drifting through space. We are made of stars and in that same cosmic cycle, they become stars again.
You can't touch a photon but in the warmth of the sun that will someday reach this land, we will find you
My forgotten go to track. The last time I listened to it, grief had already broken me. Now I’m back, returning to an old friend.
