The froth of the ocean is warmer to the touch than the still water
It crackles against my palm and leaves behind its
residue when receding back in on itself.
!['[Why do people die as volume...]', by Mykyta Ryzhykh](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/59aef3bacd39c38dabcb0dc2/1720499139764-4849B0NIDDZGFZZJ5CT2/Screenshot+2024-07-08+at+23.24.21.png)
The night never ends anywhere. There are only two of us: me and death. I am always alone. Conscious death does not exist: however, as well as conscious life.
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The revolution still waits for us.
The friend with open arms
Is still smiling.
Look at your life in a chronological order, each event occurs within the blink of an eye. Blink, you’re born. Blink, the first time, your mom tries to run away with you. Blink, your first day of school.
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I remember sunflowers inside out. Ripened roots accompanied by leaves and
the leaving.