Slowed down by a sense of hopelessness in all his decisions and movements, he suffered from bitter sadness, and his incapacity solidified into a pain that often sat like a nosebleed behind his forehead the moment he tried to make up his mind to do something.
Can I borrow your rain coat? When the world is too blue so I put my night-light colored sunglasses on. There's still the half-burned polaroid picture of us under your ashtray, that I look at to remember my face.
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