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PHV

October 22, 2014

On occasion, I imagine to myself, willingly or no, that my life is an unending confluence of romantic aporia, neatly interlocking and paralyzing, unable to see a way out, to the point that I wonder whether I am like others who are simply too dull to see the mounting complications in their own lives or whether, instead, I am merely too taken with my own thinking to take things as they are and nothing more.

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