RE: These Faces I've Shorn

I remember.

Reading this felt like sitting in a familiar room. One I've sat there in my bed, crying, aching, in agony, because the world that once was is no more and I can no longer unsee what I've seen.

I lean into the dark night of the soul with this -- it is the blackening before the rebirth, for the body and soul to transform there needs to be the death of the old. This can drive men and women mad with grief. I have been there, I have witnessed it.

I won't try and give give meaning to your words -- that would be like naming the Suns and moons in someone elses sky -- I saw something deep in it. Old. True, tired maybe, but still glowing.

As I said in my last comment the most powerful and ancient thing we can do in a world of maps and charts and data is to feel.

So consider this a nod, from someone that's carried the weight of the world too.