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When the matriarch is gone, so is the herd’s collective memory.
But in killing the dominant female in a herd, they destroy the collective knowledge of the entire family.
The matriarch is a knot that holds together a rope made of many strings.
Your briefcase is your heart, and you are rifling through it constantly. Your office is as wide as the world, and your punch card is measured not in hours but in a lifetime.
