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Weekly Contest #162
If you told yourself enough times that the delight you felt in the sound of birds singing together at dawn, meant nothing. Or the love you had for the color of the young summer leaves when the sun shines through them. If you discounted this magic over and over because it didn’t stop you from feeling grief or pain, you might be in danger of growing into a gnarled, bitter stump of a person. You wouldn’t see yourself as the heroine of your own story, because you told yourself too many times that the tension of the awe in the easy...
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