Before you know what kindness really is you must lose things, feel the future dissolve in a moment like salt in a weakened broth. What you counted and carefully saved, all this must go so you know how desolate the landscape can be between the region of kindness. How you ride and ride thinking the bus will stop, the passengers eating maize and chicken will stre out the window forever.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only the crowd of the world to say it is i you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.
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