I want to become a pile of bones. I want to return to the soil with grace — to become the silence after the song. We worry about optimization, about results, conversion; but we forget the importance of slowing down. Lie amongst the green, and let the sun forget your name.
Bones are still, unbothered. They simply be. We forget that the body, as it moves through time, is rehearsing what it already is — who we are beneath the ego and the curated image. To live in authenticity is to remember that we are a Heideggerian being-towards-death. Carry the knowledge of death, of contingency, of change within you, like a round pebble in your pocket: silent, and heavy with truth.
