The souls that rise leave little pieces stuck to the earth. From these remains memories are born that long to be devoured, chewed and spit out on fertile soil. Remove the earth, name, affirming that all those men and women who are no longer there existed. In his death is your death too. Those who cry are crying your wars. If you see them out there, it's because they've always been there. Don't look away from the pain. Stick your fingers into the chest and be true to your instinct. The memory is fragile, the fragrances are fleeting, the pain, however... It remains. Avoiding it, building your entire life around not wanting to see it, is all it does is keep things happening for you to pay attention to. When you feel your pain, you are closer to someone else's pain. Empathy appears when you go through, in your reality, everything. Opening the way to feel.
