Reflective Essays and Poetic Musings by Condemiang + Stories About the World

A Gothic-style church near the Royal Pavilion in Brighton, England. Beyond the small branches, like our anguish and agony, the former splendor once enjoyed by George IV is being obscured. They say nothing lasts forever in this world,  but if you think about it,  there is nothing truly finite either.  For we shall wander again  in another river,  another soil,  and  in countless other forms. Yet after coming to know  a still and unwavering eternity  through your death,  we have come to understand  just how trivial  that splendor and majesty,  hidden by mere branches,  truly is.

Dance like no one is watching Sing like no one is listening Love like you have never been hurt before Work like you don't need money Live like there is no tomorrow -Alfred D'Souza- Dance, song, love, work, and an attachment to life— Too humble to say that I’ve enjoyed them, but when I look back, They are nothing but the most precious words. How much have I enjoyed, And how much will I enjoy? What are you worrying so much about? Are those people, in their many thoughts and forms, dwelling in times filled with dance, song, love, work, and attachment? I am reminded of that bald man sitting in a worn-out pub, with a glass of beer in front of him, lost in his worries.