We all live in a box.
Carry it arround, wondering how to make our box differ from another’s.
The borders drawn in the sand by someone else are our prison.
The ocean will wash it away or the wind will wipe off the marking but we will keep standing where we are, limited by what we can’t even see anymore, but are just used to.
Carry it around, wondering how to make our box differ from another’s.
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