From every cell of my being, every limb in my body, every gene of my existence, the cry ensues.
Run away... Run away from all that you despise, all that you fear, all that makes you cry. Pull yourself apart from the proverbial chains that bind you from birth. Looming large in the horizon of your existence is not Death, but something much worse - Exile.
Even the most pessimistic of us all has a grain of optimism in him. From the time the final sentence is pronounced, till the moment it is executed, in his deepest of hearts he expects an unexpected announcement, an unknown saviour to appear bearing the news of the sentence having been revoked.
And yet, yet... when the final blow falls, despite the worst pessimistic bravado that he has displayed, despite the worst expectation that has sustained him, despite the grain of optimism that has remained in him, he is shocked, appalled and nearly in tears to see the fall of the guillotine.
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