Imagine living the same life over and over again, forever. By your actions you make it Heaven or Hell.
Amor Fati.
fragments
thoughts too short for essays, too considered for silence
Every take is the wrong take. I just keep going until the mistake starts sounding like it meant something.
Some songs don’t end. They withdraw, like someone leaving a room quietly so you won’t wake.
Grace is not the reward for the open hand. It’s what the open hand finally stops refusing.
Pride is a suffocating tomb, a prison of death. A mask worn so long its presence is forgotten.
Speed was escape. Slowness is presence.