Sometimes I feel like I've had a celebration dinner, and it's that hour of the night where the raucous dancing and songs were two hours ago, and the lights will be totally dark and the hall empty in 30 minutes, but for now the last few, whether pockets of two and three and two, or just one, are left with the glitter pressed into their heels and the
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"Nothing is forever, Pierre. Nothing."
Very Siddartha, in the way of the Buddhist concept of impermanence, doncha think?
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