Let me tell you a story about my journey, a voyage across distant lands that we take every year. Me and countless other individual entities, with a single drive and purpose. Over snow capped mountains, across vast plains, through cities and wilderness. It's massive, almost ensuing an apocalyptic view. We move poised and with constancy. I can, however, make do without all the quarreling and rumbling, tiresome little things these are. The pressure builds. It churns and engulfs. Gut wrenching stress, like you've never known, surmounts. Cold, dark and heavy masses of grey. More rumbling, annoying little things. The pressure brims up, it can barely contain itself, it's gonna cave, any moment now. And almost poetically, the most beautiful phenomenon in the natural world takes place. We take the leap of faith, we fall. Far down below, things have changed over the years. I'm always fascinated by your race, by your flair and finesse, how you think that the world revolves around you, so similar to the countless other races we have encountered since the dawn of time. Still falling, it's so cold, it'll be all over soon. Where did I land ? The warm stream of a babbling brook, a field of paddy, or did I trickle down into somebody's cup of coffee. I don't know, I have no conscious on the ground. This is where my story ends. This may not be the best story you've heard, for I am just a small gear turning the big machine. But know that we are eternal. We are unending. We are parents, we are the children, we are the long divide. Slowly we decay into memory, embrace my demise.
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