A liminal state after death and before birth - bardo. These aimless days of replaying memories and trying to taste them - play, rewind, play, rewind, play - trying to touch them. Waiting without object, eyes cast back, a shirt hanging in a closet.
You cannot pass through this place if you do not first let go of that one.
Thinking of your peace of mind. How you longed for it so earnestly. How I wished I could give it to you, cupped in my hands, like a tea light or a butterfly.
You cannot pass through this place if you do not first let go of that one.
Thinking of your peace of mind. How you longed for it so earnestly. How I wished I could give it to you, cupped in my hands, like a tea light or a butterfly.
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