Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing direction. You change direction, but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some omnious dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isnt't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside you.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.
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