To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.
If you don’t get accepted by anyone, does that mean there’s no significance for you to live on?
Any town, New York, Chicago, with its people, becomes improbable with distance. Just as I am improbable here, in Illinois, in a small town by a ' quiet lake. All of us improbable to one another because we are not present to one another. And it is so good to hear the sounds, and know that Mexico City is still there and the people moving and living...
Why should I be made to feel I have to apologize for my existence?
We live to avoid death, we exist to avoid unexistence.
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