History is a murder mystery. The universe was fed a slow poison, and we are riding out its death-throes. And mankind, from the first father to the unborn in the womb -- all hold still in shallow-breath'd anticipation of the falling ax. The mystery isn't what will happen in the end, but how it will unfold. Dust reclaims its own. We don't own the land -- it owns us.
That's the plot.
But it's not the end of the story.
(This from Forbidden Prophets blog. If I knew how to link directly I would do so, but can't seen to master the art yet. Wanted to give credit.)
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