As a nine year old, I came close to drowning. I didn't swim very well and even today I remember that feeling, under the water, gasping for oxygen and inhaling water. Sinking deeper and loosing the strenght to fight
I'm still alive, almost fifty years later, because a stranger jumped in and pulled me out. Of all the events in my life, giving birth, the deaths of my parents, that act of kindness, by an unknown person has defined my life.
I think I live a pretty good life. I have a small environmental footprint, I vote for progressive cantidates, I have donated my time working in shelters and migrant health clinics. A zillion years ago I marched against the war in VietNam .
All these hit diaries slash me.
No, they drown me, they keep pushing me deeper and deeper under the water until there is no air left.