"I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They're a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon...I am partched paper. I have lines. I have holes...I am but paper. Brittle and thin."
— Jun 10, 2024 07:35PM
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