Don't matter, in the end. They're just words. Person who wrote 'em's long since turned to dust. Guess that's how we all end up, one way or t'other. Words matter more when they're all you got left.
On a warm summer's evening, on a train bound for nowhere, I met up with the gambler. We were both too tired to sleep. So we took turns staring out the window at the darkness, the boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.
A conversation between two men on a long space flight about family, belonging, and loss.