The Traveling Words.

One of the reasons why I love second-hand books is this: because sometimes–when I get lucky, I’ll find one with hand-written notes inside of it. I am always fascinated by such random collision of lives; knowing that the book I am holding once belong to someone else; given as an act of love by the…

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We Are Made of Memories.

Maybe it’s true, that our past doesn’t define us. But inevitably, our past will always be a part of our present; and our future. It’s something that will always stay within us, for the better or worse. And this is definitely alright–as long as we have no regret. We have made mistakes, or done things…

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