We fear this sort of thing – this dying of too much pleasure, too much joy – but I think it is only fear. Perhaps it is the fear of losing the goodness that kills us or at least kills our joy.
We fear this sort of thing – this dying of too much pleasure, too much joy – but I think it is only fear. Perhaps it is the fear of losing the goodness that kills us or at least kills our joy.
You aren't stuck in traffic. You are the traffic.
Angsty Contemporary Folklore Sandwiched between Speculative Pasts and Futures