Mountain tops reserved for peace. Untouched by its neighbors. Singular in its rule.

Borders created. Borders dissolved. Borders redrawn. What is the purpose of a border?

It seems scary. And partially it was. But on the other side, it hardly seemed that way.

How often must the story be repeated? How often will the cycle repeat? There is no end.

Pause, pause, pause. A moment to think. What do I think?