What if these instincts, which we often take to be essential to our survival (like how a baby knows to grasp an outstretched finger), are being shared in ecosystems of flesh, like heirlooms prayed upon and wept over?
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And what if the future, the yet-to-come, is also collaborating with what we are, embroidering these instincts with scripts we cannot yet read? What if we are co-authoring ourselves?
