We feel connected by tenuous strands of relationships—the same ones that often make us feel like we are trapped in a spider web of responsibilities and minor fears. The plotting, the planning, the scurrying around in circles like lab rats. Trying so hard not to see that the straw houses we build around ourselves and our loved ones can come crashing down with a huff and a puff of anything, really. Betrayal, terminal illness, accidents, natural calamities. We swallow the possible list in an endless run of activities, trying so hard to forget our frailty, our dust to dust existence.

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