You walk on, with dybbuks in you, even when they are yourself. You don't believe in the Messiah, but you keep looking to the east. The life of the world to come feels a lot like this one. You talk to yourself, because someone should always be telling the story. The only person who can take that word off your forehead is you.
This is lovely. It speaks to a lot of themes I've been thinking about for a long time.
no subject
This is lovely. It speaks to a lot of themes I've been thinking about for a long time.
Thank you.