alas, color has its burden
i've learned to love you as i love a garden
yet, even in hubris, the world wept for him.
for the first time, i'd wished i wasn't a dreamer
'what good are fateful meetings, anyway?'
As AI sweeps through our world, I finally decided to make my stance on modern AI known.
When confronted with the end of the road, our regrets become that much more apparent.
I'm plagued with a single question: 'how do you sum up a lifetime?'
How exactly do we fall in and out of love?
In a world dominated by seeking second chances, are we actually robbing ourselves of an authentic experience?
