the disappearance of summer

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sunt lacrimae rerum

ginocchia:

Imagine: I used to have a sack where I’d put all the beautiful things I find on my way but this sack got ripped and when at the end of the day I open it to enjoy my treasures there’s nothing. Imagine that feeling when you open it. And it happens over and over again. That’s how I feel all the time. I keep on filling it, hoping it will work, but it doesn’t, and what’s left is just vague memories.