I feel the cold breath of winter, it blows through me and I can see the frost on the leaves, the morning sun reflect upon the lake, I can still feel the earth crunching beneath my toes, if I can still feel then is death really the end? If I can still see the smoke billowing from my pyre, the bright burning embers illuminating the water around my burning body, then how can death be the finite we believe it to be?
possible intro to my dissertation, thoughts, feedback?
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