This is how I felt when I saw half of it. I didn't expect a word to become a prophecy. It really gave me a little prince-esque ending. I can't help but tell an untimely joke: After listening to a homeless man's eloquent account of his misfortune, a rich man wiped his tears and said, "Get him out, he tells my heart." Broken.
Our bodies live in the same world. Our hearts too, they live in another world. That world is a sea, and every heart has an island. Some hearts are in the middle of the island, and some are on the beach of the island. Many small islands make up the continent, some in the middle, some at the edges; some are far away. We need a radar, and a weather vane, to know where others are, where we are, where we're going and with whom. The sea is huge. There are many small islands. But the sea is still huge.
It's not that people have flaws -- people are real. In the eyes of the Lord, people have no shortcomings. Everyone is real, you can like condensed milk and chocolate, you can like picking up rocks or sticking your hands in beans, or you can like collecting erasers and not sticking to it. The important thing is that everything about you makes up who you are. Don't be paranoid about your own perfectionism, you've got warts, so what? That's good
And a sad story? Story has its warts, let it be burrowed
from the warm bed back to the ice cellar, just to say this
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