بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

Sometimes need to remind my self that I'm alive, still breathing, though the chest feels so empty, like it's missing something I've so long needed. Then I remember the trade I made, to forego the present for a Future laden with everything, thus things fall back into place, and I learn again to live as barely a fraction of my being. Perhaps if I keep writing, keep painting, with letters a Portrait, we'll be reminded always of who we've been.