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A type of truth

6/5 – watching, seeing, feeling longer spaces – breaks – gaps between breaths – over an hour. Breaths became less, as if stopping and then starting again – or being held and exhaled – gaps becoming long enough that each time i thought – is this the end – ? – No it can’t be, the breaths had changed so much in the last hour.

Exhale – gap – and instead of breath, shoulders tightened moving towards her ears – all of her neck tendons and muscles stiffened – her hands curled, thin brown fingers almost into fists – then – everything relaxed. That was the last breath.

Silence.

She became my ancestor. Being on the path with her; walking her to the door and then letting her go. Being in the space between this world, the seen – and the unseen.

and then across from me – “I thought she was Indian. She looked Indian”.


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