Every now and then, my world blows up and bursts in a thousand fragments. I’ve always wondered how the universe can tolerate such asymmetrical chaos, chaos which by all means can’t be sorted out. How is it possible that a world is destroyed and gets sewed back together and the universe pretends there isn’t this immensely hurting stitch, this eternal proof of a world which will never be the same. How’s it possible that a sun can keep shining on broken land and the skies are not crying every single day? How come the birds still sing the day my heart stopped and they’re also singing the day it slowly started beating again? I’ve thought of oceans in my head, oceans which bury all land and drown all life, and then fires, fires which extinct the oceans, and then winds, wind that blow it all away and bury it all over the universe.