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We're All Slaves To A Big Machine

there's a heaven above you, baby

Dancing with Jackals
25 February 1984

You cross the earth now.
You cross the water now.
You cross the Ice now...

Together we have crossed the Ice.
Together we come into the Hearthplace.
Into life, bringing life!
In the act of creation, praise!

Light is the left hand of darkness
and darkness the right hand of light.
Two are one, life and death, lying
together like lovers in kemmer,
like hands joined together,
like the end and the way.

I am Ven. I use too many words for too little reason and the wrong words for the right reasons. I make art for the internet and make a fool of myself in front of a camera for a moderately successful internet review show.

Never take anything I say too seriously.

"How does one hate a country, or love one? Tibe talks about it; I lack the trick of it. I know people, I know towns, farms, hills and rivers and rocks, I know how the sun at sunset in autumn falls on the side of a certain plowland in the hills; but what is the sense of giving a boundary to all that, of giving it a name and ceasing to love where the name ceases to apply? What is love of one's country; is it hate of one's uncountry? Then it's not a good thing. Is it simply self-love? That's a good thing, but one mustn't make a virtue of it, or a profession... Insofar as I love life, I love the hills of the Domain of Estre, but that sort of love does not have a boundary-line of hate. And beyond that, I am ignorant, I hope."
--Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness