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  • Moving forward, the path dissolves like rock-sugar. Looking back - the same. So much dissolution, so much loss.

    When I was five, it was the backyard that disbanded. This is true:
    Sun and lazy grass. Little i by the poolside. And the sky

    stopped being the sky
    becoming instead (i almost said 'becaming')
    the infinite blue
    of falling


    and that’s what I did; I free-fell up into it. The backyard trailed behind. And as I fell, it happened. Rock-sugar. The backyard and little i porous until impermanent. Absolute Nothing.

    Years later, when a friend told me of a similar experience, I just cried. Tears can be made of so many things -

    at times, gratitude and recognition surrender themselves
    in their brackish waters.

    I look at your skin from a mottled spot in the real world. How beautiful it is! Smooth - as if by warm gentle whispers. And I know in the ruby blush of your cheeks and in the ever-changing whorls of your irides flourishes the secret that the miracle of Absolute Nothing is everything.

    And I swear by my scraggy grey beard that this is also true: loss both connect us and dissolve us, too.

    [photo by Shane Convery]
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