according to my mother happiness was a choice religion country then family a fortress and why was I so sad and cold According to daddy at least I wasnβt in Karachi where rats and corpses littered the streets jesus bled a ******* lot in the streets of another city and was my redemption but how was he different from another corpse? how was his blood and dissolution different, besides a better eulogizer? He seemed to me simply a man a philosopher betrayed by supposed friends I did not find redemption in confirmation of the knowledge of gold rimmed pages and biased text. Where I found divinity was in the flesh and blood arms of people that I vaguely knew they held me together while biochemicals tore me apart from my moorings and there were no lies about salvation through death they said only, once you go, you canβt come back.