Sometimes we‘re consigned to death before it is our time to die."
Youth is painful when you do not understand the world around you.
Playing, in the empty lot, the rain a mournful companion, alone at age six. The grey men have taken Mother away, for the cards.
I have them now, and I flip from one card to the next, curved, scythe-like script scrolling through my head - words never spoken on television or written in a book, concepts not created by the Company. Too young to understand the freedom then, too old to escape now.
