I remade him out of meat and chemicals
There are many tragedies within death.
Lots of mini tragedies.
One that gets me is how someone all of a sudden becomes memory. A silent retread in my mind. No matter how glorious they were in life they can no longer offer us future. They can no longer touch us in any way. So we are forced to replay them over and over in our heads, living in their own dimensionless reality...on a fucking loop!
I believe in ghosts.
They are called memories.
And they are windows into what was.
And reflections of what can never be.
Lots of mini tragedies.
One that gets me is how someone all of a sudden becomes memory. A silent retread in my mind. No matter how glorious they were in life they can no longer offer us future. They can no longer touch us in any way. So we are forced to replay them over and over in our heads, living in their own dimensionless reality...on a fucking loop!
I believe in ghosts.
They are called memories.
And they are windows into what was.
And reflections of what can never be.