We already live on the planet of war, we already live on the red planet, and it's a war against children. All the other wars are just the shadows of the war on children.

We are nature; we are nature as we munch gum and check the phone; we are nature as we queasily regret our imperfection, turning the glossy page, turning our glossy stomachs; we are nature as we hear them witter inanely on the radio, desecrating the silence with the violence of their idiocy and dumb verdicts, chattering and grooming, picking through the ticks in their hair, marveling at new minutia.

Something inexorable seeds itself in the place of your origin. You can never escape the bonds of family history, no matter how far you travel.