Start over
START OVER
Sometimes I think that nothing makes sense. On a tiny planet, which has run towards nothing since millions of years, we are born in pain, we grow, we fight, we get sick, we suffer, we suffer, we scream, we die, we die, and others are being born to start the useless comedy again. That would be, really, would our whole life be a series of anonymous screams in a desert of indifferent stars?
