Chronicle of a Corpse Bearer

by Cyrus Mistry

Dreams, reality, nightmares—are these, in fact, distinct planes of consciousness? Or merely different modalities for perceiving the one grand canvas of an indivisible reality?

The difference between this moment and the next is only one of awareness.

self-importance is nothing but illusion. What is a man in the end, Phiroze, but the powder of a few dried bones. . .?’