A THIN BLUE VEIN PULSED IN THE collecting pool of blood where a bullet had lodged deep in the boy’s back.
These days were teaching him more: that the frailty of our bodies stems from the heart and travels to the brain. That what the body feels and thinks determines the way it stumbles and falls.
There is this to know of dying: it comes in moonlight thick as cotton and carves silence into all thoughts.
If he had been alone, he would have sped up, but he wanted to linger in this moment in the car with his son and hear him talk of better days.
Our country exploits those who work the hardest to stay alive. Our emperor has built the myth of this land on the blood of those who have been too tired to voice their own truths. Is this my country?
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