kobes | inbox for saltburnt

inbox for saltburnt

WELCOME TO THE SALTBURNT NETWORK

USERNAME:
koby

text ❖ audio ❖ video

[ Hm. ]

They seem to have that in common, don't they? These places we keep finding ourselves in. Prisons with no cages, no walls. None except for those in our own minds. What a feat.

Saltburnt at least was gentle about it. This place is It keeps building the walls higher. I can feel them getting higher.

It knows how to give and how to take.

[ Saltburnt has been an embrace that held them tighter when someone tried to pull away. ]

What else can you feel?

Yes. More like -- a heartbeat. Something living. This is more like being inside a stone. It doesn't move and it won't let us move. It won't let us go. A lot. I can't always remember it all, though. I say things and then I don't know I've said them.

I heard it, you know. A heartbeat. Right before we watched the house burn. Something is speaking through you. What is it saying?

You did? Really? Was it Did it seem to be in pain? It tells me people's regrets. Their doubts. Their guilt.

Would you feel pity for it, if it was? That sounds troublesome. One should be busy enough dealing with their own.

I think so. Yes, I think I would. It hurts. Feeling all of that, it hurts.

Honor its pain instead. As it has honored ours. And you can't make it quiet?

Has it been an honor? It feels more like A punishment. The punishment of a parent who doesn't know how to be kind and firm, yet. Not for long. Saying what I see helps, for a time, but it always comes back.

Are flowers ripped from soil as punishment? Do we devour the animals that were killed to feed us as retribution? Or is their suffering a part of something greater? I say it's necessary. And I think it can be beautiful. Let it come, love. [ Recalling the conversation they once had, ] It's your turn to open the door.