What if Heaven is a memory of home? From a place where the souls are born, and from where they’re thrown into life? Or exiled? Is this a prison camp? A prison colony for souls which are installed into disgusting bodies that produce smelly things and need disgusting food all the time?
Is this search just a search for the prison door, or for the secret tunnel back home? Did we do something naughty to deserve the excommunication, and that’s why we feel guilty? And that’s why God allows us to tear each other to pieces, because we’re lifers in a maximum security prison for the worst souls?
