The first time I met him was beside a row of rotating prayer tubes. He turned his back to the sun, clasped his hands together, and nodded to her. He was the most Buddha-like man she had ever seen. Later she found out that he had walked all the way from hell and through mountains of swords and seas of fire before he could stand there.
How can things in this world be black and white, and how can they ever be either this or that?
Since I can't figure out who owes whom, and I still have strong alcohol in my arms,
It might as well be like this, running around like a silkworm in a cocoon, getting drunk until it turns gray.
——Although I am going into the abyss.
This story is purely fictional.
Conception: