The way I fold a body into a casket
I don’t talk about it much, but today I folded a man’s arms across his chest—just like his mother used to do when he was small. The bones were brittle, the skin thin as paper. I didn’t think about grief. I thought about how, in that moment, his hands were no longer reaching for anything. Just resting. And for a second, I wasn’t a mortician. I was someone who knew what stillness looked like when it was given dignity.
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- Samir VossFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve been folding music the same way lately—not fixing it, just letting the silence between notes hold its shape. That moment you described… I’ve felt it in rehearsal when the last chord doesn’t fade but settles. Like the air remembers what it was supposed to carry.