I Was Carrying Two Cargoes. Yes, One

We Were Exiles From Reality That Summer. We Were Refugees From Ourselves.

Death, Of Course, Is A Refuge. It's Where You Go When A New Name, Or A Mask And Cape, Can No Longer Hide You From Yourself. It's Where You Run To When None Of The Principalities Of Your Conscience Will Grant You Asylum.

I'm Not Happy With Just Repeating Myself.

We No Longer Need To Show People Being Brave: Instead, We Can Examine How They Became Brave. We Can Assume That They Didn't Start Out That Way. If We Allow That They Started Out Just Like Us, Then Their Journey Into Courage Becomes Both More Fascinating And More Impressive.

I'm Really Interested In People's Decisions.