1970

It comes to me now, deeper memories, hidden from myself.

Bringing truth to my memories.

The charred human skeleton.

He was a human being, now a burned body needing “recovery”‘

Burnt ash disintegrating in my hands.

“How did that make you feel?”

“How did you feel when you tried to pick him up?”

You don’t feel because you don’t know how.

After

After, you hate yourself for being alive.

You will always hate yourself for being alive – you must.