“People speak of hope as if it’s this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider’s webs. It’s not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of cobblestone in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.” This year may have beaten many of us down, but it’s not over.
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“People speak of hope as if it’s this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider’s webs. It’s not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of cobblestone in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.” This year may have beaten many of us down, but it’s not over.