A few weeks ago I was walking to the subway on the Lower East Side, and I passed by four cute, bright, and boxy large plastic toys with over-sized heads and undersized instruments representing the four members of the Beatles, and I wondered:
When do we cease to be real, and instead become the malleable ideas of others?
Or are we always that way, it just isn't so apparent?
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It's the human condition to be so. We can't escape it.
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