Not even this beautiful picture book.
I brought this book home years ago
even as I saw the folds in the corners,
even as I heard the crinkle of the pages turning.
Because the pictures stood testament
to the journies endured.
These pictures, they translated silence.
So I brought the book home.
I didn't recognize then...
that this book didn't need preservation
It was meant to be read and destroyed;
that nothing lasts forever,
Not even those beautiful pictures.
I threw this beautiful book in the fire
And silently watched it burn to ashes.
-Srividya
Dec 9, 2018