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Summing it all up ~ P.S. These pre-created expressions aren’t always exact portrayals of my actual reactions P.P.S. But she’s starting to look a bit more like us 😉 P.P.P.S. ♥️
















Old enough to remember when ⁦⁩ actually meant something. I remember looking forward to it each week in my youth. Now it’s a farce. Any of the Hong Kong victims would have been a better choice than Greta, an actress playing climate change girl.




Pelargonie i Zegarek jedno i drugie kojarzy mi się z przemijaniem raz na rok te rośliny odchodzą jak czas wskazywany tik tak tik tak more on instagram Wysoczynski






















As if you needed more proof Magazine person of the year is fixed and just propaganda.... at 96% but they chose fake Greta instead.



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Once Upon A Time...

There lived a man named Time.

Who owned so many clocks, he counted differently each time he died. Whether he died twice or thrice or any time of day mattered to himself. Because almost everything was a matter of time. Who was he, himself but also she. For no one really knew. What time could be.

So the man named Time married a woman named Faith, who did  not count the seconds but waited instead. This, as many things were, became a short affair. For Time worried much when Faith was not there. He mistrusted, distrusted, misunderstood, overly understood. So when Faith fell in sickness, when Time could not trust her, he had an affair with woman named Watch.

The woman named Watch, another short term, followed Time’s counting, day after day. But soon Time was annoyed, for she nothing for she was nothing but void. And did nothing when he died twice or thrice. So when Watch stopped repeating, he had a rendezvous with a man named Coincidence.

He was very spontaneous. Laughed less, smiled more. And Time often found, strange things lying ‘round. It was his shortest and briefest affair, for Coincidence met another without explanation.

“It was such strange moment. But I’m very glad it happened.”

And that was the last Time saw of him.

A very strange moment indeed.

By this time, Faith had become so very ill. Leaving Time so very bitter, he mistrusted, misunderstood, scoffed, and glared. Had more short affairs. Had more unending stress.

And so much was his worry, and strife and stress. Affairs here and there, enemies everywhere. That when Faith died, he burned every clock and changed his name to Despair.

Nothing was right. Nothing was thorough. Autumn meant death, Winter meant sorrow. He changed and unchanged. Over and over. And spent less and less time, ever being sober.