EPIGRAPH

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"nothing is real except the present,
and already, i feel the weight
of centuries smothering me.
some girl a hundred years ago
once lived as i do. and she is dead.
i am the present,   but i know i, too,
will pass. the high moment,
the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand.
and i don't want to die."

  - sylvia plath

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