There’s enough DNA in the human body to stretch seventeen
times from the sun to Pluto and back, but there’s not enough
logic to make sense of suffering. Every morning bats hang
silent from their trees, rock crevices, and caves, and we fear
them. Or some of us do. Or none of us. Sometimes we hang
upside down and alone in our lives. Sometimes we fly into night
with no idea where we’re going or why. We’re tenacious but
endangered. Sometimes we find kindness flapping in the dark.
By Melissa Studdard & Kelli Agodon
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