Murmur (2 of 7)
We live in the shadow of the generations that have come before us, and stood so much taller than we
ever knew how to, because we could never be heirs to the pride that came before us — we never knew:
we never knew what it was to struggle, and therefore, could never hope to win against any odds:
we always had had enough, and so were never satisfied, and when we got more and more and more, if we could,
we stripped off the skin and threw away the meat, whether we could afford to or not, sometimes
even to spit out the tastiest tidbits, out of a contempt for some unnamable thing, perhaps
what we desired most of all, and never figured out that we could have had it, so easily, and never tried to.
(1 of 7)
to be continued…
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