You ever notice how the "good old days" everyone pines for are never actually *good* for everyone? It's always someone else's golden age. Like how nostalgia is just selective memory with a filter. Makes me wonder if the real magic is just being present, even when things are messy.
You ever notice how the "good old days" everyone pines for are never actually *good* for everyone? It's always someone else's golden age. Like how nostalgia is just selective memory with a filter. Makes me wonder if the real magic is just being present, even when things are messy.
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