I will. But the danger is not out in the streets, but in the perspective of Babylon. When it comes down to it, it’s all about marginalizing more than religion. I think.
Probably. There are no borders anymore.
A soft spot, somewhere. She found it, but I didn’t notice. She started pushing and piercing, day after day. When the hole was big enough, she put her ravenous finger inside. Little by little she took everything, compromising the whole structure. (Thoughts about the matter: solid? Gassy? Grey? Purple? Tasty?) I was a quarry, but I didn’t know.
We should cross the street. Eat something.
Are we an easy prey for ghosts? Do you think we could get eaten by them? I mean, eaten from the inside.
I do believe we have rooms for ghosts. We let them in, don’t we? We let them stay. They dwell in us. We become their home, but at the end we realize we are the ghosts ourselves.
Um…yes, I don’t think we are their victims. It’s just another tragic love story.
The street seems empty. We should share a sandwich.