I woke up one morning, not too many mornings ago, feeling bleak and unnecessary. Like so many mornings since my son, Light, had died, I have felt almost like an extension of the bed, a huge effort required to separate myself from it. I went and lay down with Marla, on her bed, which isContinue reading “Arjun”
My son lies beside me. It seems that he is dying. It is morning and the world is alive with colour and movement, the birds, the trees, the sky. Everything here, by contrast, is very still. I watch this interplay of life and death, wishing my life force into my son. It seems we haveContinue reading “Reflection”
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