We live now, and always have, as hunters and gatherers. Along our path we collect small scraps of our being, slowly assembling the quilt that surrounds us. Experiences, information, or misguided moments and memories become fabric we wrap ourselves in. Lonely, or cold, we search for a stitch of humanity in threadbare motives and flimsy excuses. It is not always comfortable. It is who we are, not what we have become.
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