“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
― Anais Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
I’ve always loved that quote, except for the part that happens when these worlds pull apart. But that part isn’t there is it? The death of this new world. Or does it really die?
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