"At the hour of dusk you sit and look out on a wide river turning pinkish red, at the mountains beyond, and although in the morning you must cross the river and go into the mountains and maybe die, even so, you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not"
— Jul 24, 2018 08:45PM
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