All days are fleeting as each memory is but a moment cast in a sea of infinite images. Soon we shall wake to the nothingness beyond a dream that never is and never will be. Aye the calm of the storm but the impression of seeing one within the calm, to live before that passes on is a lovely journey.
I have this hope that each day and each year will be better and brighter than the one which preceded it; the years have not met my expectations and have not stopped moving forward, but neither have my hopes.
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