We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
“
| — | Anaïs Nin (via rarararambles) |
And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.
“
| — | Friedrich Nietzsche (via partly-me) |
