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A distant hall of judgement
I wonder how much of endeavour is still goaded by an imagined, distant hall of judgement, by relentless, invisible, pitiless scrutiny.
And its corollary: I wonder if my idealism is really misplaced. The shape I keep trying to discern is waxing depressing again.
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Trying to get ready for our "Victorian Tea with gothy overtones" party next Saturday ( Read more... )