He wanted to live.
He is not poor. We are. God keeps him close. Do you need more than that?
But. He wanted to live. He wanted to have happy life, he wanted to feel sucsses. He wanted to feel the truth.
You can’t lough at memories. You can’t lough at his pictures. You can’t lough at all.
I command you to be sad. To carry the sorrow and embed it in your bones. To cry your eyes, brake your heart to pieces.
I rule you the memory as a present, a shadow as a light, the blindness as a guide.
I pronounce the void as an object, the time as a stone.
I proclaim myself as a colorful shame.