When you tell me your story or about yourself I understand who you are and are able to share who I am better.

When we die our deeds shall be left for humanity to judge & our flesh shall become dust for humanity to feed & thread upon.

Dae FATE NAYAE Nanagha Vandhuttoom Da, Sandy , Na Nata, London Lass,Russian Grapes, Ellorum Ippa Vanthuttom da. Ippa Engha Turn da... Tharu marru Agha Poghuthu... Ethukkum nangha poruppallla

We are all joined in a circle of stories.

. . .because we had survived
sisters and brothers, daughters and sons,
we discovered bones that rose
from the dark earth and sang
as white birds in the trees

Because the story of our life
becomes our life

Because each of us tells the same story
but tells it differently
and none of us tells it the same way twice . . (from, Why We Tell Stories)

The words you can’t find, you borrow.
We read to know we’re not alone. We read because we are alone. We read and we are not alone. We are not alone.
My life is in these books, he wants to tell her. Read these and know my heart.
We are not quite novels.
The analogy he is looking for is almost there.
We are not quite short stories. At this point, his life is seeming closest to that.
In the end, we are collected works.