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be my friend
by neckbone2005

this one 2?????

you were supposed to publish that
by neckbone2005

oh sorry

Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez inĀ One Hundred Years of Solitude

(Source: burntsoufflegirl, via potlinson)