“How framed the circumstance of being; how unfit I am to occupy this earth, how unfit it’s to grieve what it took from me. How curious it was to trade this corporeality for the forevers contained. I stood atop the golden hill to count them; all were nuanced by fate, supposedly. All they told me was why the hungry eat, which I presumed to know. All out, now I wonder why the mortal languish; fed up with life. They turn, these wheels, and I’ve lived in absentia all to forget the gifts life may reveal. Thus, seemingly, I owe so much yet am not required.”—On Strictly the Business of Heaven

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