A faint breeze is cutting through the woods, making the leaves of the trees around me tremble. That anonymous rustling forms ripples on the folds of my mind. I rest a hand against a tree trunk and close my eyes. Those ripples seem to be a sign, a signal of some sort, but it’s like a foreign language I can’t decipher. I
give up, open my eyes, and gaze out again at this brand-new world before me. Standing there halfway down the slope, staring down at this place with two soldiers, I feel those ripples shifting inside me. These signs reconfigure themselves, the metaphors transform, and I’m drifting away, away from myself. I’m
a butterfly, flitting along the edges of creation. Beyond the edge of the world there’s a space where emptiness and substance neatly overlap, where past and future form a continuous, endless loop. And, hovering about, there are signs no one has ever read, chords no one has ever heard. 
I try to calm my ragged breathing. My heart still isn’t back in one piece, but at least I’m not afraid.”
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

 Emptiness' Illumination-1-W

The Illuminating Emptiness-W

Emptiness' Illumination-3-W


©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/

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