Soar in the endless ethers of love, beloved!
SS taken from Penguin's Website When I awoke today at nine in the morning, an urgent desire enveloped me, there was this need to drink in the day to the last drop. No, It doesn’t happen to me everyday. I was in a good mood, almost content, and yet this desire lingered, leaving me hungry for more. I got a call from the Amazon delivery man while I made myself a tea. Anticipating a delivery for an item I had returned the previous day, something I did not wish to be replaced, I was surprised to hear, "It's a book." Japanese Death Poems. Written by Zen monks and haiku poets on the verge of death. I was delighted as I opened the package—the kind of delight that fills your body with a tranquil, physical peace. Yes. Siddhartha had the mentioned this book a few months ago. I thought it was him. To my surprise, it was someone else. “You said you will buy it. You sent it to yourself then,” he answered. It was not for the first time a book had mysteriously found its way to me
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