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Concentration of living on the edge and trying to leap off into the bottomless sky is what I breathe for but something I'd rather not do in my lifetime
Mind—shut off— the thrill of adrenaline in my veins —it's the concentration of a thousand eternity in a myriad of seconds —just the rush— the fleeting permanence of a history we can't get back It's a rush—indeed— and a life well-lived
