decreation:

“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. We never discard our childhood. We never escape it completely. We relive fragments of it through others. We live buried layers through others. We live through others’ projections of the unlived selves.”

The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-1947

17.10.20, 10 months ago
via keiras; source decreation
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