Birth/Death - Krasznahorkai

[...] he would see that birth and death were only two tremendous
moments in an eternal waking, and his face would glow with
amazement as he understood this; he would feel... - gently he
grasped the copper handle of the door - the warmth of the
mountains, woods, rivers and valleys, would discover 
the hidden depths of human existence. would finally understand
that the unbreakable ties that bound him to the world are not
imprisoning chains.....  ; and he would discover the enormous
joys of mutuality which embraced and animated everything;
rain, wind, sun and snow, the flight of a bird, the taste of
fruit, the scent of grass; and he would suspect that his
anxieties and bitterness were merely cumbersome ballast
required by the live roots of his past and the rising airship
of his certain future, and, then -- he started opening the door -
he would finally know that our every moment is passed in
a procession across dawns and day's-ends of the orbiting
earth, across successive waves of winter and summer,
threading the planets and the stars.

Suitcase in hand, he stepped into the room and stood there
blinking in the half-light.

Laszlo Krasznahorkai
Hungarian Novelist and Screenwritet
From:  The Melancholy of Resistance

with thanks to Love is a Place

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering