is this what growing up is? just leaving things behind, over and over?
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im in a constant state of ‘would feel better if in a forest’
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so many worlds to see through the window
(via)
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autumn in the city: walks on crunchy leaves, trips to the library, and warm people amid the chilly weather
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the ambience of shakespeare and black coffee
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we had been late for coffee
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We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.
Charles Bukowski, “Letter to William Packard” July1985
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