You are me, already dead. To feel alive, we seek sensation, any sensation to wash away the cranky, black sorrow. It leaves us for a moment, but then it comes back. And we have to do it all again. And we need more. And each time we need more. Until too much is never enough. We are the already dead, Little D, you and me. The question is, do you have it in you to make it epic?[to Furiosa]

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