I have been touched by many writers but this is the first time I have ever cried, uncontrollably– relieved– as if I was opening a time capsule for the first time from a past life. Why do I feel like I’m reading my autobiography??!– as if my last self had written it just so i could read it at this exact same moment in this lifetime to serve as a reminder that other galaxies exist beyond this nature?– of where I come from. of where I am going to. of where I left off. why does this all feel like I am traveling and returning, traveling and returning… is this what it feels like to be multi-conscious? where do you begin? i am fading. i know too much. Uncertainty is the cousin of Hope but Hope always dies last. is this what it feels like to tap into the *eternal records?