Today was rather cold. It's not uncommon for January mornings to be bone-chilling and windy, but today, I could feel the wind pass through my sweater, hit me point-blank, and extinguish the remnants of heat that my skin and bones radiated. Hitting at point-blank, being hit at point-blank—both are mutually exclusive events, but there's a contradiction; both are cohesive too. When a bullet leaves a gun and pierces the flesh of a living entity, it not only splatters the blood of its victim but also ravages the innocence of the perpetrator. When a lion tears the flesh of a dying deer, it not only eats parts of its prey but preys on parts of itself, too. When I am long lost in this smoke, when this nicotine roll burns in my hand, it's not the only thing burning. Death always occurs in pairs, but neither entity ends the same way as the other, and it's rarely instantaneous. It's more of a slow, gruesome, tragic, yet cinematic event. Death is always violent. Sometimes, it a...
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