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In my childhood, we told hero stories around our dinner table. A friend of my father's had been "called" to serve God in the Amazon and died from three arrows by a tribe apparently unhappy to have him there. I never really understood or was told the politics of(more)
when the world's about to end
and everything is crashing around me
i can call on her (if she doesn't call on me first)
she lives inside me, a nice shady little corner
mossy and full of wildflowers
there's tea and chocolates if she wants (more)
Memory Log of a FEM

One time
a RealGirl
said to me
when my user (more)
Why do we live after death?
        So that what we start may be ended.
Why do we die after life?
        So that what we end may be renewed again.
Why do we start what cannot be finished?