before me, there are mountains:
some large, some small. some dusty and some full of lush grass. some with windy roads and some with paved paths and some with nothing at all.
I look back, and there are different mountains, they look far away, I've been through them.
I just want to sit down, but something stirs deep down to keep moving.
it's too late to go back, it didn't even cross my mind and it's not worth it anyway.
there's no use in staying put either.
then,
forward it is.
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