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Nature will take itself back. The made things we leave behind will be slowly swallowed by the earth. Something comforting in that, right? That we can only do so much damage. That the temporary nature of our existence limits our harm.
only a grown woman who’d been to hell and back knew what a gift it was to own yourself, to know yourself.
Has anything unstitched the fabric of our humanity more than the things that we have devised to entertain ourselves?
