Like it or not, we have a limited run at this game called life. We exist to communicate, propagate, and terminate. Our existence has ended by age, by blade, by bullet, by bacteria and by boredom. We’ve gone out in style, in sleaze, in disgrace, with remorse, with extreme prejudice, and with dignity.
This isn’t a game. We don’t dance through life. We don’t bounce through life. We don’t bowl through our existence.
Whether our life is spent in the grill of an unforgiving sun, or the shade of endless darkness, we sup at the tit of an earth goddess until we can hold our own spoon.
Whatever our origin or colour our fears, dreams and hopes are shared equally in our collective heart.
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