Miracles
We are miracles.
No, seriously, we are heterogametic miracles. Think of the sperm. Think of the odds! Think of your masturbatory ancestors, paging through their furtively borrowed father’s stash of Playboys and spurting on bathroom floors, or the promiscuous ones unloading at wartime brothels or else casting spent condoms filled with the now extinguished prospect of life from the backseat of vinyl upholstered automobiles—and here, miraculously, is you. You were not in those condoms, or brothels, or on those floors: You are here, among the born.