White Corridors
I saw this picture today.
And remembered the day I took it.
There are stories about the white corridors at the point of death. Of corridors leading to The Light that we're all supposed to head for. But this particular white corridor was not for the dying, not for their last breaths, not for him. It's for the ones holding their breaths. It's for those hoping to stall death.
And on that day, in this white corridor, we held our breaths for 12 hours. Then he breathed his last.
I took this picture to remind me of that day. To remind me of him.
And remembered the day I took it.
There are stories about the white corridors at the point of death. Of corridors leading to The Light that we're all supposed to head for. But this particular white corridor was not for the dying, not for their last breaths, not for him. It's for the ones holding their breaths. It's for those hoping to stall death.
And on that day, in this white corridor, we held our breaths for 12 hours. Then he breathed his last.
I took this picture to remind me of that day. To remind me of him.