...My mind explodes into a million scenes of what I am. My identity explodes outward as the last semblance of an unknown gravity that held it all together escapes. I am Rohit - infant, child, boy, writer, singer, man, lover, love, kiss, mystery, dichotomy, energy, human, god. I am breaking down, disintegrating into images and experiences. I am not a physical body, but I am in fact those myriad experiences and encounters that have shaped me. Here, at the edge of everything known to me, I realize I am nothing but a biased record of every experience since my birth. I am indeed memory in living form. Here, at the end of everything known to me, I realize that all life fluctuates between creating memories and becoming one. I am nothing but pictures that are flashing past me quickly now – a school yard with railway tracks, flag pole, concrete stage with grey banners, large balcony in a beloved apartment, chewing an eraser, pencil with teeth marks, black square hats raining down, lips coming closer and closer and closer, drop of crystal tear on dark eyelash, leaf, first miracle, first letter, first poem, first friend, best friend, mother, sister, brother, drunken night, words, scar, huge fight, disgust, anger, love, anger, love, fear, love, rain, rain drops, hospital room, green wall, clock ticking, second-hand ticking, one more second, one more second, one more second, one more sec…
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The Anatomy of Death
The Anatomy of Journey Page 37
