the reason stories and art exist is because, when pushed for answers that dont exist, the human soul is all but forced to just start making stuff up. whatever comes out is shaped by our experiences the same way play dough squeezed out of different objects with holes of varying size and shape would come out differently from each object when it is pushed out. im making all of this up right now but it makes sense dont it? thats art. freshly squeezed right out of my experiences babey
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