She almost halted. She’d never before seen things in such a way; she’d never before felt the echo of misery and suffering assailing her from all directions – every scene painted into life by the fires was like a vision of madness. We do this. We do this all the time. To all these creatures who look to us for protection. We do this and think nothing of it. We say we are great thinkers, but I think now, that most of what we do each and every day – and night – is in fact thoughtless. We will ourselves empty to numb us to our cruelty. We stiffen our faces and say we have needs. But to be empty is
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