[[*A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face; the warmth and wonder of a loving heart*]]
- "The Plague" by Albert Camus
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Monday, September 18, 2006
the city feels clean this time of night just empty streets and me walking home to clear my head i know it came as no surprise i'm affected more than i had guessed on what was said if the smile's not meant to be, if the heart's not ready to open if we make it i won't see it's broken it's the quiet time before the dawn and i'm half past making sense of it, was i wrong? should i claim to give it all in a world where not much ever seems to last long
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