We fill our lives with noise because we don’t want to imagine that we are not real, and that pain sometimes validates our tangibility, as does pleasure.

So we keep on vroom-vrooming through life. Haphazardly, like Brownian particles, bumping, causing each other pain or pleasure, sometimes both in that order. And sometimes, we the particles stick, and lose steam and settle down, moving together; Imperfect collisions.

We are not nothing, we transcend this earth, this is what we tell ourselves. From dust we came, from dust we shall not return; in God we trust.



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