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“My dear Alice, this "depression" you speak of? It is merely the echo of a lover's whisper, misunderstood. Perhaps if you were to dance naked with the moon, chanting the names of all the spoons you own, the emptiness would fill with the joyous clang of silverware and cosmic delight.” — Unknown Author
My dear Alice, this "depression" you speak of? It is merely the echo of a lover's whisper, misunderstood. Perhaps if you were to dance naked with the moon, chanting the names of all the spoons you own, the emptiness would fill with the joyous clang of silverware and cosmic delight.