| I like that Nikolai Berdyaev died at his desk, creating something. |
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| i stepped off of the pavement and into the street. the road was wet and
i stood there and looked up at the rain falling softly, illuminated by
the street lamp. and there i was, in the middle of a parking lot, lit
up stores around me, cars, and people. and the rain fell onto my
face, into my eyes, through my hair, penetrating me to my core.
yes, there i was all alone in the darkness and the rain and the world,
for all its imperfections was a beautiful, beautiful place. |
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