Thursday, July 24, 2014

The Dark Station


   
         







            When death comes, we leave the world of light behind and enter a world of shadows.

            Colors mute to gray. Sounds are all in the distance. Even if it’s sunny and in the eighties, the air feels cold and we wear a jacket. Food tastes like cardboard, so we don’t eat. Everything we pick up is rough to the touch, so we stay home. Our world shifts into slow gear.


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