Things We Leave Behind

In a strange, twisted way, mindfulness actually makes me fear death more. I fall in love with the small things – the way a floor board creaks, the feel of a towel, the silky thread of a small spider web caught in a shard of light – and realize I can’t take any of these things with me.

If this world is a womb, well, I’m absolutely enraptured with it, and don’t know how I’m ever supposed to leave it willingly. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.

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About A B

"There is all this untouched beauty, the light, the dark, both running through me." -Over The Rhine
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