Sep 19, 2012

Conquering Breath

Sometimes, lying still in that iron lung, I felt like an unwanted child, my mother a tube of glass and steel. Keeping me alive, unlovingly.

A nurse told me my father was in Tibet. Killing dragons, I thought, because all distant places were home to dragons.


I don't know about dragons, but there is a peculiar art form in Tibet which requires bodily remains. 

Here are some more carved Tibetan skulls.

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