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There will always be the light outside. Even when you are surrounded by darkness, and what you got is a small, vile window like there is no hope anymore. There will always be, light. And you know what? It is uncountable.

They seem so tiny, petits. Yet they brinf you into places. You will never know where they are or what they are until you follow the light. Just never stop to look for the light.


When people die, they look like sleepers. And when people sleep, sometimes they sleep like they already die. Is there any corelation between sleep and death? Is there any chance that sleep itself is a bridge between life and death?