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(1 edit) (+4)

a flower grows, rots, and dies. it's tempting, in grief, to pluck and preserve. but it is reborn in the soil

this game tells me to empty my vases, and lay the flowers out in a field. it tells me to fill my vases, and watch them wilt beautifully. it tells me grief is the interim, between reading my favourite book, and reading it again

a week after playing, i still think about the writing often - i'm proud of you guys

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aah!!!! both tska and i were floored by your comment. it really is a beautiful description of what we were trying to talk about. being consumed by grief. being consumed by love. it is part of life and part of loving. and as you change, sometimes you see your own love changing too. it's a scary thought