Is this a perpetual search for meaning? Can life be transfixed to the same, old routines we do everyday? Will I get tired of my relentless pursuit for the finest things in life like LOVE, HOPE and of course… BEAUTY? I think not, love was made grander by poets and visionaries who can write about what should be but they themselves were blinded by fate to take a real close look at it. So, all they had were vivid dreams but what grand tales were concocted – much, much better than the real thing. This I believe to be true!
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