Life is perfect. Anything actually is. Except nothing. Who
defines of what quality something is. Being truly objective is
not possible; but if, everything would be perfect, just for
reason of existing.
Life has no meaning. Our life, itself is just a timeline on
another timeline. Ours begins, and what begins must end.
All you can do is live, and one does that, just by existing in
We have been granted a gift. A gift, with what we can do whatever
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