Through my short life, I have seen how the same values, the same love and the same anger are repeated over and over again, even though the color, shape or amount of blood changes. This is how it happend long before I was given birth to, by my mother, who died before I had children of my own. Long before the hole world came closer through a screen.
Long before towns were built by peasants, who had been born by hunters, who beat their clubs against the shadows on the cave walls. The only difference now is the speed. Everything will be repeated sooner. That doesn’t make me shed any tears. Because I know I’m going to see it all again. In a minute. Unless we choose a completely different way.
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