A Billion Burning Dreams

across infinite square miles that these new highways cannot stretch to reach his happiness. Set aside your cutlery, my friend. We’ll preserve what’s left without pouring salt into your wounds. By butcher’s hook or crook, you’re gonna get through this and when you’re fixed the person you are will hang the person you were from it. And the scars will not haunt you like ghosts, but watch over you like angels.

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