a/n: the quote is by Matthew Gilbert, a very talented musician and poetic soul.
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It doesn't snow where we live, so we make angels in the dirt
Share honest laughs on swing sets, pick daisies from the earth
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Reckless laughter spirals into the sky, spin spin spinning just like the girl it leapt from. The giggles keep rising higher and higher until you can't hear it anymore, and the girl falls in a heap on top of a golden-haired boy, shaking silently with the giddy joy of childhood.
Although they aren't children; not really, not anymore.
(And in this moment, time doesn't exist.)
They stop and they smile, but they keep on spinning. Out of control and out of bounds, and sometimes out of their minds. But it's pure and it's soft and it's something beautiful, so they just spin until the colors blend into each other, and the whole world is a mess of blurred faces and sensations.
The sun looks down and grins, because he's never seen people more alive than they are now.
A camera separates each moment into still-frame magic caught on film. The boy behind it shines and decides that out of each photograph lining the pages of his album and scattered about his desk, this is his best work yet.
They listen to the ghost of a train that was never supposed to exist (it's only a legend), and dance in a strange rhythm that's nearly as nonexistent as the train.
Three boys and a girl.
A wanderer, a philosopher, a fighter, and a dreamer.
Four friends, comrades, companions, whatever you want to call them. There are four of them, and it's the most perfect number anyone could ever ask for.
The boy with eyes like melting chocolate (warm, although they shouldn't be, but you can't help but think that it's better this way) tackles the boy with golden hair spun from straw, and they go tumbling, rolling, laughing down to who-knows-where and does-it-matter-anyway. The photographer and the girl watch and run after them, tripping and landing in a magnificent pile of dirt and dust and daylight.
Yes, it's something beautiful, all right.
It's bright and it's dizzying and it's coming fast, but that's what life is.
And according to Roxas (the wanderer), Pence (the philosopher), Hayner (the fighter), and Olette (the dreamer), they wouldn't have it any other way.
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Give bouquets to sad-faced strangers, and wish on dandelion seeds;
We spread smiles via contagion, as if joy were a disease.
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