A DRAFT TO FINAL HINGE

The book is an incomplete address to our last moment. We haven’t seen this fine layer of our last breath that would become so fragile and precious. We are already on this journey. However we are so delusional at the moment of our life guarded with a masquerade of infinite self as compared to the dead laying before us. It still feels like we’re far away from it – like we can make it. We won’t. In this life we lack a good deal of peace. It has smoothened away while we build cages to catch hold of it. Hey no one can hunt and imprison peace! The understanding is at the trans-mystery of why we’re born with a spread and are gone with untamed legs…