Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Café de la mort The fragrance of life has left us bereft of memories of murmuring brooks, the taste of full lips, warm and eager. Our empty sockets gaze at nothingness but we sense your presence as bones touch bones, as thoughts wander off and mingle. There are no secrets in the Death Cafe, no shame, no fame, as our names are erased from history — by the Living. We do not blame them nor complain, for they will join us soon enough. © Kåre Enga (6.april.2025) [182.12] Prompt for April 6th: Death Cafe (Thai: คาเฟ่ตาย) 122.653 |