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An artistic statement

the worst thing about this particular artistic disposition is that it warrants a strong inclination towards the reverie of nostalgia. Things were much better back then, because things are generally terrible now. But people are always convinced that things are terrible. Perhaps it's just generally difficult to get by in THIS economy.

and as for the end of the world, well, it's best to be on your toes when you don't hear any gibberish about the end of all times. It's bound to happen anyhow, why bother with it? Have a nice time. Have an affair. Eat some ice cream, I really don't care what you do, as long as you aren't disturbing my peace.

But this is free! One day, it won't be.

But that isn't going to be for a very long time, so keep loving it.

If you don't, fuck off.


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

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Hope had left the gun on the table.

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