Nobody’s Going Anywhere But Here

Some instinct parses presence into disparate expressions of itself:

unified and separate at once. One’s the genius, one’s the dunce,

one’s the renegade who seeks release from both. But by their

constitution they have pledged their troth: nobody’s going

anywhere but here. It seems like this would be a tragedy.

It’s not, though. Their pleasure in their destiny is clear.










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