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I have a tendency to write too much about the most loving phases of this thing called 'being human'. I blame this on the way the stars had aligned themselves when I was born, making me one of the most hopeless of dreamers. The kind of one who believes in change, in harmony, in complex outcomes made of multiple layers of both emotions and actions. The most diverse of these two of them.
I look at the sky, and a shooting star makes itself known in it's still pinkish hues. The romantic coloured twilight reminds me of you right now.