“The world is not soft” is a phrase used to subjugate, judge, and shame those who would ask for space, rest, kindness, softness. The world is not soft because the survivors have shaped it. On the skeletons of weakness, on the soft souls, over the quiet whispers and mumbling wisdom have the strong survivors built their homes and rules. We do not know what softness can offer us because we have fallen into a catch-22 nightmare of hardness and violence. We cannot survive without it, we make it the test of survival, we have all the choice and no choice at all. The loudest, strongest, powerful, enigmatic, charismatic, or insanely lucky are the tidal wave of our culture. We shed a tiny tear for the small villages filled with beauty and vulnerable- engulfed and washed out, submerged and voiceless. Oh well, survival of the fittest. Oh well, it was inevitable that they would not make it out alive. What beauty and wisdom are we missing? What miracles have we screamed over? What cures have we ignored in our loud pride? Infinite upon infinite. That is the count.
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