Chapter Eight : Dialogue With Death In The Language Of Death

Orientals burn incense, and wisps of smoke float into the air and into the distance, becoming a dialogue between the living and the dead. 

 

sometimes, I can truly feel her presence. It’s as if a wisp of incense smoke drifts away, in that fleeting intersection of reality and illusion, there she is, almost within touch. As the realm of reality surges in, she fades away once again. At times, she reappears, much like the transient moments of sunrise or sunset. We, who emerge in various seasons and fade in the timelines of others, hold significance for certain individuals, but ultimately, we are just passersby. What can preserve permanently is only what we exchange along our journey.