..or maybe it’s just another version of loving, touching, squeezing?
Either way, I find it strange and somewhat humbling to learn that my universe is really smaller than the size of a basketball; that all we are rests comfortably on the skin of our brain, existing in tiny bursts, and brief bolts of energy – zipping to and fro, in seemingly random patterns that combine mysteriously to form our vivid sense of who we think we are.
‘I am that I am.
A is A.’
Itching to learn the truth.
Scratching at the surface.
Bleeding my way towards a shadow in the dark.
Notebooks filled with words that might never be brought to light.
We are all just scrambling in the dark, and it is sometimes a mountain to bear.