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When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the road become a river with only one destination? Death waits for us all in Samara. But can Samara be avoided?

Every choice is the death of all other possibilities.

“When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise, and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused.” Rainer Maria Rilke

Imagine two realities intertwined but at one time separate. Everything that’s possible happening simultaneously but happening in an illogical order.

The Winter Palace sleeps in a cold blue dawn of stillness. Oh that it could sleep forever like this, frozen in time. Hard is the soil. Still is the air Gentle the sky And when the morning breaks that it should stay undisturbed. Oh morning do not come and bring your horror. But morning broke…