hf: word 1

THE DUST THAT FALLS AND WHAT IS BEAUTIFUL

I am six. Maybe even seven or eight. Mama often reminds me, but what I am, I cannot remember. For me, the difference between one and one hundred is simply nothing. Ten is just one hundred with a missing circle, and six, seven, and eight are approximately the same age. I do not know that others do not feel the same way. And it does not matter to me, at least not now...