I'm not sure what we're running from. Nobody. Or the future. Fate. Growing up. Getting old. Picking up the pieces. As if running we won't have to get on with our lives.

Everyone is equal and everyone is forced to participate; you can't just be a spectator.

To merely observe your culture without contributing to it seems very close to existing as a ghost.

Every time we burn a gallon of gas or an acre of rain forest, aren't we killing the future to preserve the present?

You kill strangers deliberately so you don't accidentally kill the people you love.

The things you used to own, now they own you.

The weather today is partly angry, leading to resignation and ultimatums.