we have to put bits of our old selves away, a few words on a slip of paper, rolled up in a tiny bottle, then tucked away. we must. or who we were calcifies around us, and we march through our todays like armadillos. protected from the new and wonderful.

every once in a while, you find one of those old bottles. you open it. you read it. and old dreams bloom to fill every space in your consciousness. you never outgrew them; they are who you’ve always been; you just forgot.

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