🖤 your writing, and this line persists in my mind>>>
what i crave more than mourning, to be remembered while still here. to be loved in the details. to belong so deeply that even in my disappearance, something in their world tilts.
I go through this same future nostalgia many a daydream.
I wrote a little spiral about it in: Fake My Death
this was so so beautiful and moving, thank you. I especially liked the softness of your description of ‘water shaping stone’ and the way you describe the smell of the soil as ‘loamy’. I often think about death and what comes after for those left behind too. I find it strangely comforting that through time, space, language we try to imagine this yet it will always remain the biggest unknown.
Beautiful thank you for sharing this. I have lost a lot of people throughout the last few years and it has spurred unrest in my understanding of death as well as breathing in fullness of life and connection with others. This piece echoes many of my thoughts in bewitching language
Don’t like funerals, don’t want one. When I die if possible I’m going out like Thelma and Louise, my last big “bang” in life. They can leave me for the coyotes to clean up.
“what i crave more than mourning, to be remembered while still here. to be loved in the details” that’s exactly how i feel. i am scared of death and leaving this world but i don’t want to be immortal, the thing that matters to me is to have someone who will always pray for my soul and remember the good times i had with them.
Gor! What is your favorite flower?
🖤 your writing, and this line persists in my mind>>>
what i crave more than mourning, to be remembered while still here. to be loved in the details. to belong so deeply that even in my disappearance, something in their world tilts.
I go through this same future nostalgia many a daydream.
I wrote a little spiral about it in: Fake My Death
https://open.substack.com/pub/cynishere/p/fake-my-death?r=3vddjw&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
i'm running out of tissues brother 🤌🏼🖤
this was so so beautiful and moving, thank you. I especially liked the softness of your description of ‘water shaping stone’ and the way you describe the smell of the soil as ‘loamy’. I often think about death and what comes after for those left behind too. I find it strangely comforting that through time, space, language we try to imagine this yet it will always remain the biggest unknown.
Eventually all our graves go unattended
Beautiful thank you for sharing this. I have lost a lot of people throughout the last few years and it has spurred unrest in my understanding of death as well as breathing in fullness of life and connection with others. This piece echoes many of my thoughts in bewitching language
💌💌
I would not expect anyone to sit at my grave. My time is now, and yes, birds overhead will be just fine.
Another masterpiece, love.
For me, I hope many birds sing around my grave
Another masterpiece, love.
For me, I hope many birds sing around my grave
I would've stayed if you let me
Simply beautiful. Thank you for writing this <3
Don’t like funerals, don’t want one. When I die if possible I’m going out like Thelma and Louise, my last big “bang” in life. They can leave me for the coyotes to clean up.
Brother why must you tear my heart out of my chest
this was some beautiful work, thank you for sharing
this is so beautiful you are an amazing writer❤️
“what i crave more than mourning, to be remembered while still here. to be loved in the details” that’s exactly how i feel. i am scared of death and leaving this world but i don’t want to be immortal, the thing that matters to me is to have someone who will always pray for my soul and remember the good times i had with them.