artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and

artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and
artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and

artofmaquenda: “Our lives are not our own. From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas Last weekend my family hit a hare on the road when it got dark, the poor thing went straight through the headlight and got stuck. I took it home with me and cleaned it up a bit. I envisioned an umbilical cord attached to nature’s womb. -- source link


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