The Past Is Made Out

Nothing Is Permanent. Not Even The End Of The World.

I Think We Crushed Ourselves Down Over The Centuries. Buried Ourselves Under Greed And Hate And Whatever Other Sins We Could Find Until Our Souls Finally Hit The Rock Bottom Of The Universe. And Then They Scraped A Hole Through It, Into Some ... Darker Place.

We're Fumbling In The Dark, But At Least We're In Motion.

It’s Not About Keeping Up The Population, It’s About Passing On Who We Are And What We've Learned, So Things Keep Going. So We Don’t Just End.

But We Don’t Remember Those Lives. We Can’t Read Our Diaries.’ ‘it Doesn’t Matter. We Are Where We Are, However We Got Here. What Matters Is Where We Go Next.’ ‘but Can We Choose That?’ ‘i Don’t Know.’ ‘we’re Dead. Can We Really Choose Anything?’ ‘maybe. If We Want To Bad Enough.