But soon we shall die and all memory of those five will have left earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning.

You’ve found your road, you know where you’re going, but I’m still drifting in a chaos of dreams and images not knowing why I write or who it’s for.