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I've stopped writing the way I used to, because I've stopped feeling the way I used to. I can't write the same, my mind's changed quite a bit. I've gotten much older, you see. I'm the not the same I used to be. People are not all kind, wandering, lost souls as I once liked to believe. Life was happier then, innocent. Rural dirt roads bring me quiet joy, they remind me of my childhood but they're not realistic, are they? The world cannot be all beautiful trees and unkept dirt roads. We must advance. We must get used to highways and airports and cities. They world is growing, 7 billion people, is it? The time of innocence is gone.
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
here's to (never) growing up
I've stopped writing the way I used to, because I've stopped feeling the way I used to. I can't write the same, my mind's changed quite a bit. I've gotten much older, you see. I'm the not the same I used to be. People are not all kind, wandering, lost souls as I once liked to believe. Life was happier then, innocent. Rural dirt roads bring me quiet joy, they remind me of my childhood but they're not realistic, are they? The world cannot be all beautiful trees and unkept dirt roads. We must advance. We must get used to highways and airports and cities. They world is growing, 7 billion people, is it? The time of innocence is gone.
Dorothy-Quinn
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Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
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