When someone leaves, what remains has to do with him, but not anymore. Like the cocoon that is abandoned by the butterfly.
I'm not sure what the butterfly is, if it is. But what I am sure of is that the one who left is no longer there and what remains is the cocoon.
As Constantine Cavafis said in his poem:
We said goodbye for a week
I didn't know that those seven days
They were going to last a lifetime
You never know
When are you saying goodbye.
And this is not to be overwhelmed by grief or anguish.
On the contrary, it is to appreciate the unrepeatable present, the people and moments that we take for granted.
The haze is not knowing if you are going to be alive the next minute, if that bombardment is going to hit your shelter; or that tomorrow they will invade the place where you live and you don't know what will become of you or yours, and it happens, and you die and everything ends or you are a prisoner and your family rejects; or strangers come and kidnap you and yours, separate you from your people and insolently enslave you; or you're in your barrack, they say they take them to take a bath, but you realize that something is wrong, you take your daughter's hand and they lead you there until, inside, everyone shudders and twists desperate for the gases ; or you walk through a market in Kabul buying your food, when suddenly everything breaks and explodes, with pieces of bodies and screams ..; Or you see someone sleeping on the street in the doorway, angry, abandoned and the best thing you can think of is taking some photos.
And you think you have problems and you sink into your little anguish!
