No more martyrs

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Things happen so fast, you’re born, you fall in love, you’re old. And the greatest things get crammed into the tiniest bits of time. The briefest moments are the very ones you wish you could capture, dwell upon, live in … we want to but we can’t … good thing, that.

Every action changes our fate.

I think a vast amount of people in the West are lost and have been for a very long time. That’s why they follow blindly.

When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the road become a river with only one destination? Death waits for us all in Samara. But can Samara be avoided?