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"I’m walking bare, tainted and fragile on the earth that shaped me into the living thing I have become."

Life, Death & Fishing

I walk down to the lake, passing through a graveyard along the way.
The souls animating their flesh in the raw, dusty streets of this place do not seem to bother much with respect for the dead. The graveyard and homesteads blend seamlessly into one another. The graves are frailing apart 
like derelict vessels, drifting on an ocean that has no end or particular meaning. Goats use them as pedestals without pride (sheep are nowhere to be found.) I like this idea of things. 
Don’t make too much of a fuss about death and dying.Simply live. There is no reason to hide your incomprehension beneath fake reverence and mock pity.

I reach the edge of the lake and immerse myself among bathers, toilers, reposers and fishermen. The warm sand clings comfortably to the natural curves of my feet. I have no need for magical carpets. I’m walking bare, tainted and fragile on the earth that shaped me into the living thing I have become.

Image by Chris Wait