When you’re young, you think everything you do is
disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing
it away. You’re your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and
people too – leave them behind. You don’t yet know about the habit they have,
of coming back.
Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where
you’ve been.
~ Margaret Atwood, The
Blind Assassin, 2000
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