Tuesday, 1 May 2012

Death is ...

I was born into the Carnival. I've done all my living, sleeping, playing, growing, and throwing up at the Carnival. When I die, I won't escape it - not that I'd want to. Death is that black stripe above my head on the measuring board. When I've reached it, then I can go on the gnarly rides. 
(p1-2 Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl: Wide-Eyed Wonder in God's Spoken World)

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