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The World betrays you and professes no inclination to reconcile.
"It can be no other way," doesn't reek of satisfaction, does it?
"It's war, then," you think, but nothing much happens, for so long, that you forget. Only for the World to
betray you again. And so on. The grooves and valleys worn into you! The ten thousand million networked cracks, every sting you've felt, the map to your soul, but
incomprehensible. Thus are your struggles to understand the self themselves transcribed and so encrypted... as a necessary condition of their arising.
betray you again. And so on. The grooves and valleys worn into you! The ten thousand million networked cracks, every sting you've felt, the map to your soul, but
incomprehensible. Thus are your struggles to understand the self themselves transcribed and so encrypted... as a necessary condition of their arising.
"It can be no other way," doesn't reek of satisfaction, does it?