No Sympathy for the Devil
There is a sickness inside our hearts. It aches for something brighter, better, a more resplendent mode of being. God, perhaps. Or temporary deliverance from the pain of being alive, and of knowing we
.png?Expires=1838763821&Key-Pair-Id=K2ZIVPTIP2VGHC&Signature=IO0~CT3pU-TcxGc~yoZSmoQx23MZVuK-~4jSii~NKEblRmyO3el7NXPu~Rh1o23voASg7hlcHLw4kvQuDK1jssEhcjoNBBvEpZ~GGOAU6yosBhpHpeF179F~h7i6VxmsBNh9gtTutkoqY73O2YCFey~IAqSzKbBqETP1kP9cAg1916Z1YkJJs-5MliMrkZ5d7-mWGLbpHp2wGj2VlMph8XzYlL4~y1O7fB~JdIS~Rs4RMRs2x0WT1qUIpHAsf3GdwtOyAmKFSpIg8xCyNGZZ5h~13nXlmpd7uPvW8tBfttpG9pFTqcway-uch5WyfHOEfi7UlJCOWrr6fCYY5PMgSg__)
