You are my spiritual brother, I said. You are my spiritual sister, he said. It was years since we had spiritually reconnected. Years since our respective spirits probably found and lost siblings, mates, anchors, seas, storms.
We planned to meet again. Spirits.
I did not keep the promise. Nostalgia ached in my belly. I wanted to slap myself. What spiritualism was this that it could not face reality? I felt the barf in my mouth. Spiritualism was dregs and offal. I was drifting away…into myself, into nothingness.
Brother-sister curled inside me. Foetus of despair awaiting spiritual birth.
- - -
These two rough drawings were made around the time. I do not know what they mean. Perhaps, nothing.