The Bottomless Pit
How potent is dread compared to happiness, as the one continues unrelenting while the other dissipates in the wind like ash and bone. I think of sorrow. We're alone here amidst the madding crowd's ignoble strife. And all our darkness is life's gift. To not succumb or implode or crumble beneath the notion of how things should be. Take the pain like a piece of parchment and wrap it around a stone. Then release it into the bottomless pit.
The above excerpt is from Kevin Kunundrum's new novel, Blood of the Sun. The photograph is also by KK.