Imagine you were born in a poor family, in a poor city, in a poor country, and by the time you were 28 years old, you have so much money you can’t even count it. What do you do? You make your dreams come true.
In the darkness, there are no rules. So, tonight Gotham, do what you want. Kill who you want. And when morning comes, you too shall be reborn.
Any fool with a bit of luck can find himself born into power. But earning it for yourself, that takes work.
You will find little joy in your command, but with luck, you will find the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy, and let the man be born.
The cultures we were born into mean that we do things differently. And yet I suspect that we also hold many of the same things in the highest esteem.
Some people are fortunate enough to be born into the right family. Others have to find their own way.
Everything changes. And nothing changes. People die. More are born. And in between, we exist. I never wanted to do more than that. Just exist.
Death isn’t only about the destruction of the body. Sometimes, just like that, you extinguish one self and another is born. But every birth is violent and there’s no death without pain.