Four Months Ago...

It is man's ability to remember that sets us apart. We are the only species concerned with the past. Our memories give us voice, and bear witness to history, so that others might learn, so they might celebrate our triumphs, and be warned of our failures.

There are many ways to define our fragile existence, many ways to give it meaning. But it is our memories that shape its purpose and give it context: the private assortment of images, fears, loves, regrets. For it is the cruel irony of life that we are destined to hold the dark with the light, the good with the evil, success with disappointment. This is what separates us, what makes us human. And in the end, we must fight to hold on to.

Fight or Flight

When confronted by our worst nightmares, the choices are few: fight, or flight. We hope to find the strength to stand against our fears but sometimes, despite ourselves, we run. What if the nightmare gives chase? Where can we hide then?

Four Months Later

The sun rises on a new dawn. Yet few of us realize the debt we owe to those responsible for this. To those who dwell among us, anonymous, seemingly ordinary. Whom destiny brought together to repair, to heal, to save us from ourselves. And they're still out there among us. In the shadows. In the light. We pass them on the street without a glance. Never suspecting, never knowing. Do they even know yet? That they are bound together by a common purpose? A glaring reality to be extraordinary. And when destiny does unite them, how do they hide from it? How long can they dwell in the shadows before either fate, or their own flawed humanity draws them out in to the light again? And how will they know what awaits them when it finally does?