the art of dreams

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[It was a beautiful thing, really. It smelled like the sweat of a dancing grenade, and if you listen carefully, you can hear them call it...a "dream."]

Once upon a time there was a boy. He doesn’t exist anymore but he loved to make her smile because…well because she deserved it. Because she needed a little help remembering that she was beautiful, and he never forgot.

This story doesn’t exist anymore, but there is a man. He loves to make her smile because…well she deserves it.