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Sometimes paper is only paper,” my mothers says. “Words are just words. Ways to capture the real thing. Don’t be afraid to remember that.”I know what she means. Writing, painting, singing–it cannot stop everything. Cannot halt death in its tracks. But perhaps it can make the pause between death’s footsteps sound and look and feel beautiful, can make the space of waiting a place where you can linger without as much fear. For we are all walking each other to our deaths, and the journey there between footsteps makes up our lives.
