It is the way of the day, so it seems. We stand bloodied and bludgeoned by this wearisome race, speeding through the marathon to the finish line, only to be sprayed by pellets and nails and shrapnel by angry ghosts with scores to settle, messages to send, and messes to make. Torn from within, we fight for impossible equilibrium and stability across the vast spectrum of we.
And it is that middle that cannot hold.
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