Is this life? To stand here and wait. In this city forged of scraps. Is this life? To stand on the dead. On feces and sweat. Is this life? It's starting again. Quick, gather your belongings and go. Run while it's still dark. Out here you're as good as dead. Leave the shots echoing behind. Don't look back until you run out of land. When you think there's a second that you can't be seen, the current can decide how this night will end. Don't try to imagine what's ahead. Let nothing cripple your will. You will cross enormous distance only to arrive with nothing. You will give all you have. If you navigate your way with endurance and success, if you pass the obstacles and still have your life, if you've escaped death, if your guts haven't withered away, if you haven't broken under the strain. They won't be welcoming. They forget a time when their land was swelling. A monstrous movement across the sea. When she relieved her bowels all over the world. Don't try to imagine what's ahead. Let nothing cripple your will. Just follow the paths that they cut into the earth right back to their door.