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Dear Max
When I was about your age, I drew into my imagination as well.
No real friends, but new how to communicate with the best of them and the worst of them, still, no one got me; I became fierce.
I canvassed my imagination, on my drawing table, on my easel, and invisioned far away lands where only I howled.
They showed me who they were and they saw whom I was, and then after, I showed them who I really was. I ran, I howled, I became feral.
As I got older I got wiser, however, that inner child, the max in me is still wild, fierce, fast and free.
Even still to this day...
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