𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 – Aldous Huxley,brave new world
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┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓
"DO YOU REALLY THINK THERE'S ANY VALUE IN THE ACT OF LIVING?"
He asked nonchalantly.
"YES."
She responded easily.
The man didn't say anything. Just gave a side glance. A silent question. The reasoning for her certain assurance.
"There is a lot of value in living, actually, it's why people sought after more time–"
She paused, thinking for a moment.
"–perhaps you want to make the world a better, safer place. A dream, a passion you want to fulfil. Maybe seek wealth or fame; travel the world to gain knowledge and experience. Or maybe it's something... a cause or an idea such as fate. Or someone. A friend, family, lover, yourself. It could be one or multiple things really,"
His mouth hung open, then closed. Then opened again to respond.
"Living for yourself, huh?"
The man's face twisted at his epiphany.
She smiled, gaze lingering.
The sight of the man hunched over the counter, whiskey in hand, eyebrows knitted — it reminded her of a time.
A time of bandages clinging to marred skin, coffee stains on wrinkled shirts, long night conversations over a bottle and cigarette.
