Sometimes I imagine Hitler at seven years old, a paint brush in his hand at school thinking, “What color should I paint my soul? - Andrea Gibson

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Sometimes I imagine Hitler at seven years old,

a paint brush in his hand at school

thinking, “What color should I paint my soul?

English
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Baby, I have no idea how this will end. Maybe the equator will fall like a hula hoop from the earth’s hips and our mouths will freeze mid-kiss on our 80th anniversary or maybe tomorrow my absolute insanity combined with the absolute obstacle course of your communication skills will leave us like a love letter in a landfill. But whatever, however, whenever this ends I want you to know that right now, I love you forever.

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