Here i am. In the year two thousand nine, and looking back to a point, a spec in time that feels so new, so fresh, that I can still recall smells, still recall colours, still recall emotions. And in that spec. In that shred of fabric in space/time, I find such a massive disconnect in the man who types these words in this moment, in these waning
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Joel: I know.
Clementine: What do we do?
Joel: Enjoy it.
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
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