As for home is our starting point. On every happy Friday, we have to smile, we are sitting around the long table covered with white tablecloths, and we are talking about love without boundaries. We waited to share browned toasted bread and sipped bloody wine. We respond to the joy here with boredom from beginning to end, and then we reminisce with limited memory on this great day of communion.
It is the Lord who gives us sweet wine and bread, and it is the Lord who enriches the dullness and dullness of our lives with one's flesh and blood. We revel in this solemnized day, we are for a less purposeful future, but what kind of flesh should we be nailed to the cross. I think of the extreme restlessness in his heart, the blood and the blame made him forget the pain, and the desire to bring the light into the darkness. I know there is a God who I burn in the light! He didn't come back to life slowly in people's imaginations, and I know that he will eventually die because of the few gold coins in the hands of the disciples.
Where is the end, the season of being pinched by the snow is his own season, and if he gave up his meditation on the cross, he could have come that way, from behind the warm stables, along the rough mountain road, from where he might have come Come. However, the noisy crowd surging in the middle of the night was nothing but carnival. The dust suspended in the air marked the dignified end of an era. It is God who makes people understand respect and belief, and it is God who creates unstoppable sacrifice and madness. And those tombstones and deaths that belong to the gods, are the deaths of hope and disappointment, or are they just deaths of air and soil?
Realize that rage against the stupidity of humanity is impotent, and you, and us. Seems to be content with the occasional happy ending.
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