From the airy, cold mountain side, isolated and alone and beyond reason, cross-legged in the lotus position, peering through the expanse of space, through stone, and metal, and wood, and flesh; I note the beloved ones of long ago and recall the golden palaces that I built for them in my heart. I set these palaces afire, one by one, and watch them reduced to ashes, and rejoice. The irrelevant strangers will never know nor care, and I am far past caring, and free, finally, of desire.
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