a breath in a break from myself and other places too much time is spent. I spy young Christians scrawling scripture on the avenue in chalk through early afternoon sun. free drinks enticing passers by to stop. many indulge in exchange for a taste of momentary evangelisation. salvation sounds good over coffee. south lawn is plagued with pagans in dire need of liberation from their phones. ‘he actually lived a pretty normal life’. we’re all willed to life without a say and every story ends the same. how many of us get the chance to live again?
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