rakonteur

I have always felt that a human being could only be saved by another human being. I am aware that we do not save each other very often. But I am also aware that we save each other some of the time.

Those days of blistering cold are almost always accompanied by a kind of light that is so pure and crystallized it feels like salvation, if salvation could feel like anything. There is a type of winter light, a cold light seeming warm, a light that, when beamed through a windowpane, feels like it clears whatever it touches, maybe even forgives it. It is a light that makes you forget death, a light that makes you wonder if death is even possible. It is a light like water, as beautiful as it is full of life.