A Wooden House

In speaking of those days I do not wish to say that they were unhappy. They weren’t. But they weren’t happy either. In fact those were our dog-days. Days that we have barked ourselves by.

The Nature of the Self

The self is riddled with desire. The nature of the self is to give in to this desire. This leads to suffering, teaching us nothing.

I first began my steep ascent the day I lost control of my senses. My eyes would not be still, they jumped from object to object. My ears strained at the leash to hear all kinds of sounds which had no meaning. My tongue swallowed everything but forgot to taste it on its way in. My nose was not blocked for the first time in ages, yet I smelt nothing, or everything, which made no sense. Soft touch was upon me all over my body, yet--