our heart skips a beat.
our brain loose it.
and after that, because there is always a before and an after, you'll never be the same on the inside.
the perfectly polished mechanism called heart we'll have a small imperfection for the rest of her beating days.
small but omnipresent imperfection.
and how are we supposed to live with this fact?
as if a good thing could make up for all the pain...
fortunately, we eventually forget and move on.
until the next translation. but this time, maybe just this time we will get it right!
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