What your mind sees when you close your eyes marks the entrance to an endless universe: your imagination.

As survivors and procreators, we unravel stories that at their root are not dissimilar from the habitual behaviors seen in nature. But as beings who know they will die we digress into episodes and epics that are altogether dissociated from the natural world. We may isolate this awareness, distract ourselves from it, anchor our minds far from its shores, and sublimate it as a motif in our sagas. Yet at no time and in no place are we protected from being tapped on the shoulder and reminded, __ou__e going to die, you know._ However much we try to ignore it, our consciousness haunts us with this knowledge. Our heads were baptized in the font of death; they are doused with the horror of moribundity.

Loving my son, building my son, touching my son, playing with my son, being with my son_ these aren__ tasks that only super dads can perform. These are tasks that every dad should perform. Always. Without fail.

Because I fuckin' love you Mia...That didn't come out exactly as I'd planned, but it is the truth. I'm in love with you...

All I know is, being away from you......makes it hard to breathe. I miss you so much

I__ not a lot of trouble,_ she said.His gaze slid to her mouth. __ou sure about that?___ompletely._ And then she flashed him an indeed trouble-filled smile.And that__ when he knew. He was the one in trouble. Deep trouble.