"Is life so wretched? Isn't it rather your hands which are too small your vision which is muddied? You are the one who must grow up.

The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches wrapped me in their peace. When the boundaries were erased, once again the wonder: that *I* exist.
The light died in the low clouds. Falling snow drank in the dusk. Shrouded in silence, the branches ...
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