A tender bite, the heat of breath, this is what humanity is for. Books whisper dreams of enlightenment and disfigurement. Song lifts the spirit, is the universal language. Stars we can almost reach prick the imagination with white points of possibility. Everything we could be. Everything we want to be. But pages turn only one way, music is crafted by demographics and similitude, and stars shining at us from a million light years away cannot tell us what we are today. A tender bite, the heat of breath, this is what humanity is for. To appreciate the animal in us.
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