“Because Margo knows the secret of leaving, the secret I have only just now learned; leaving feels good and pure only when you leave something important, something that mattered to you. Pulling life out by the roots. But you can’t do that until your life has grown roots.”
Paradoxes. As they exist.
As though life was inevitably designed this way. To go through the motions of the crests and troughs endlessly, indulging in each, then absolving each.
The gaping hole in the ground, that once was held together by the roots, then ascertains a new identity. Soon, the storyteller will fill it with his own stories.
Paradoxes. As they exist.
As though life was inevitably designed this way. To go through the motions of the crests and troughs endlessly, indulging in each, then absolving each.
The gaping hole in the ground, that once was held together by the roots, then ascertains a new identity. Soon, the storyteller will fill it with his own stories.
