Flowers in the desert

The Perfect Heart reminds me of another story. I hope the translation makes some sense.

There was a woman who had to walk several hours each day to get water. She carried two clay jars on each shoulder. One jar was new, but the other jar was chipped and cracked in several places. By the time she returned home each day the old jar would only be half full of water.
One day the old jar asked her, "M
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Cool

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