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.
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[ Saltburnt has been an embrace that held them tighter when someone tried to pull away. ]
What else can you feel?
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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.
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Something is speaking through you. What is it saying?
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Did it seem to be in pain?
It tells me people's regrets. Their doubts. Their guilt.
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That sounds troublesome. One should be busy enough dealing with their own.
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It hurts. Feeling all of that, it hurts.
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And you can't make it quiet?
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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.
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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.
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but, finally:] I'm scared.
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I'd go with you if I could.
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Wait until the hunt's over.
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What happens when the hunt is over?
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memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris. right?
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My dear Death is with me. When the time comes, make him proud. He'll take care of you.
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