A replay of my mind, my innermost speechless truths. I say them out loud in the mirror three times in the cold of my bathroom tiles. Will they come back to haunt me? How much time do I have left? What will become of them? Of me.

Sometimes nothing is better than something.
Chanting, Playing Tetris is a game of mantras repeated until they become nothing, and that is where their truth lies. Just like the Tetris ‘clear line’, when blocks disappear after spaces are filled. Allowing them to unbecome, so they return much stronger in a mysterious formation, reminds me of my own mortality. I’m here until I’m not. I repeat and play with my truths until I’m gone. My all, my nothing. I love you