Give me increase and progress in grace so that...
You’ll meet her, she’s very pretty, even though sometimes she’s sad for many...– Pan’s Labyrinth, El Laberinto del Fauno (via sheistemporary)
We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.