Fly or fall.

God blesses. God takes away. And here everything and nothing coincide inside you. Sometimes, you just

want to find the exit, that glowing red ember above everybody’s head and walk out. Into what? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the past where you’ll poof into a pile of salt, or maybe the dark deep nothing void of all the black holes Stephen Hawking talked so much about, or maybe into the beautiful abyss of creation, where you’ll worship all you’re not supposed to.

But I think it’s something different because can’t you feel it? This pull across the floor, away from the exit, out the window and up the hill until you are with the rest of them, a pair of hands firmly on your back, toes curled over the edge, and you only have one of two choices: fly or fall.

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