Between my shadow and my soul

the story without words

an insatiable flame erupts. burning libraries and mosques and art galleries and churches and movie theatres and government archives and buidlings. blackness. tearing out the pages of history. to that first light of protoplasm. to living without being human. to skin without hair. the story of jannah (heaven). where prayer is movement, nakedness is all, instinct not thought and love not care. to be not to am. to only have ur body, not ur mind, the first few moments of existence and ecstasy. before the pain of blood in our veins and pulling in our muscles. no need for names, or assumptions, or ideologies, or favours, or chivalry, or airs, or politeness. just. when everything was nothing. i feel close to death now.

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