The eagle has landed. The fat man walks alone.
I'm home now. There was a poodle on the Zurich flight. Don't ask.
"If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater the effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?"
"I…don’t know. What…could he do? What would you tell him?"
"To shrug."
I'm home now. There was a poodle on the Zurich flight. Don't ask.
Posted at 4:30 PM
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