“I take with me your companions”


“I see light. Soft, soothing light which caresses me like a moist feather. I let it pour over me, and enjoy basking in it. There is this irrational fear inside of me, warning me to not get used to the light. After all, there is light in prisons too, but they remain prisons. The light there is a reminder to the inmates of their crimes, to remind them of their punishment, and to remind them everyday how nature plays with light and dark. I push back the fear, smother it with the lulls of false reassurance. This light is here to stay, I tell it. Foolishly, of course. No light ever stays. That is how nature has created it. Light is fickle, obstinate, shy and sly. It never quite goes away, there is always a small glimmer of it. It hides. It shifts its focus. It fluctuates and blinks. It dims and glows. I expected that. But then, all of a sudden, just as I finished patting the fear down, just as it settled; an eerie darkness took over. The light vanished. This time, there didn’t seem to be even a small, sad glimmer left. For the hundredth time I realized, light doesn’t stay. And that when it goes, it does not go alone.”



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