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We are asking you to stop making your curiosity our problem.
One starts to think we are only divided because we have the names.
What began as beautiful turned ugly as it grew. I wonder what that says about us. “Your culture is fine, so long as it doesn’t erode ours.” As though the mixing doesn’t change all involved. As though a chemical reaction doesn’t transform and create.
word of prescription pills whose symptoms include liver failure and blindness and lack of empathy
Isn’t that the point? To find some small pocket of delusion when confronted with constant and unwavering reality? Isn’t that what I do when I write?
