And I have often wondered – of what point is resistance? Of what use is such struggle? Bleak thoughts that are with me always, the coldest logic. The blackest celestial math. A vice grip from which there is only one relief. To remember – to recall what it was to stand among them. To know their fear. Their pain. The struggle that is their resistance. To feel the warmth of life’s joy. To stand in awe of its beauty. To stare into the darkness…