the beauty of decay/pain of impermanence
Found this from the beginning, probably a couple years ago and I still have 3 pages left.
Always starting things without finishing them, like pretty much everything else in life.
You can see that it's aged... some places the words have completely worn out, but I like it that way. It fits.
"lying hinged on the awkward suspension of breath,
the overgenerous notion of love slipping tide out like
a fucking mirage"
the fading of ink and paper reminds me of butter. "the tibetans carefully carve elaborate deities, in butter. as the sun melts them, it's a reminder that nothing lasts..." -seven years in tibet
...speaking of which, it struck me as odd in this film when the chinese generals stepping through and kicking the buddhists' sand mandala was showed as a great insult, when this is what buddhists do themselves anyway. almost all mandala rituals have a deconstruction process where the mandala is swept away with a single gesture, or deposited in a body of water, to symbolize the transience (impermanence) of nature and the ideal of nonattachment to the material world. but whatever.