You sit before me, crumpled and tearstained, folded in your chair like a paper bird. "Look at me!" you cry, "I am a paper house painted like brick. I have done nothing with all my years! What am I now? What am I now?" And I say: You are origami, a beautiful bird of paper. I want you to unfold your idle wings and fly. I want you to love yourself- the house underneath.
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