Dreams, illusions, are like paper bow ties. They fly carefree
daring, tireless, perhaps unaware of their condition and fragility. Not all
they will reach the shore, and not everyone knows it, but the flight is already worth it.
At Christmas, if you look closely, you can see them soaring through the sky. The majority they look big and strong and flap their wings energetically. Occasionally one sees battered, with tired flying, as if fainted. But there it goes. those little ones, full of colors and doodles, they are those of children. There are so many and they shine darkness, because they are full of innocence, and innocence shines.
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