What now is our choice of ending?
I perceive endings as overlooked moments. We fail to take note of them, we attempt to push past them, we turn a blind eye to them, for they often require us to acknowledge when all is done. Would we know what a last moment feels like? The last dance, last kiss, last breath … Do we know when it’s done/over/gone/complete? So eager for beginnings, we never honour the end, but they must come.
Maybe this lack of recognising the end is part of why we haven’t yet begun?
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