Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Dirt and cold

Sometimes it feels as though someone just shot a hole through your chest.

Sometimes it feels as though we've forgotten how to live, and is this a toy world? A play-world? With our shoes that protect us from dirt, clothes that protect us from cold and music that protects us from the sound of our own thoughts, it's as if we've created a plasticky cocoon and forgotten about everything outside.

But who cares about dirt and cold and hard thoughts? Why do they matter anyway?

When I see people who don't even know what they've lost, I kind of feel like crying.

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