We crossed paths, you and I, and we shared something forbidden and divine. Today we fight ourselves with stones and clubs and vulgar slurs, and we grunt and swagger before lines drawn in the sand; but the sin of our crossed paths has become our strongest tribute… our instinctive force… our steadfastness and triumph over adversity… and our testament to the creator, whose cauldron is a sphere that spins and travels through His workshop, and His legacy is a small and brooding race.
What if our planet is the slowest in the universe?
What if a million alien races are waiting impatiently for us to evolve?
I set the ants in my yard various tasks.
I’m trying to get them to evolve but they keep complaining I’m only doing it so I don’t have to hang my own clothes up or mow the lawn.