«When the pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king. What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight and he'll win the whole thing even before he enters the ring. There's nobody to batter when your mind is your might. So when you go solo, you hold your own hand and remember that depth is the greatest of heights. If you know where to stand then you know where to land and if you fall it won't matter because you know that you're right.»
Fiona Apple's poem. (se algum dia fizesse uma tatuagem, seria este poema que tatuava)
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