As an antidote to lonesomeness, the sensitive soul finds in beauty a reason for being. The raison d’etre becomes to experience beauty, as the warmth of others is so distant that one’s fingers start to become numb. So it was with the little matchgirl. There is an African proverb: "A child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth". Well, a child might also decide to light their own fire. So it was with the little matchgirl. No one paid her any mind. But she died beautifully.
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I have read The Little Match Girl many times. It's sadly beautiful.