literature

caulfield

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Literature Text

It was impromptu and it was gorgeous, lilting and powerful and innocuous and somehow, the lullaby sounded the same way the night felt, and i understood everything she felt in that moment, felt it for myself. It wasn't until then that i realized why she never wrote down any of the pieces she wrote. She knew that no other night would ever feel the same as this, or any other. And it scared her. She wanted to remember every piece so vividly that she was afraid to hear it again, for fear it would never be the same, and it would remind her of it-- everything she had, everything that was-- and with it, she would know, once again, that she wouldn't ever get to be there again. And she wanted it, so much, that she would either have it exactly the same

-- time travel, she said--

or she could not have it at all. Simple as that.

And I understood.
that was then, this is now.
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the-gray-of-it's avatar
Thank you so much! I really appreciate it :cuddle: