One morning I found a piece of paper in my jacket pocket; it was folded into four
I thought to myself perhaps I wrote a note on it
I opened it up and it was completely blank
I couldn’t remember putting it there, and I kept on thinking about it all that day until I finally fell asleep
When I awoke the next morning I had another look, and I decided that on that piece of paper I will write my life again
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“The Moving Finger writes: and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
A quote from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám.
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