Once I thought that death could be hidden somewhere on our body. Owned behind the pupil like a coin, inserted under a nail, tied around a wrist. A dark, sharp splinter; A pale, free bullet. A different thing for each person. The duration of every predefined life. The day of death, melts inside your body, warm ball of bath salts. Until then, it awaits - closed and silent. If you knew where to look for you would be able to find her, crumpled in the fold of the ear to wait patiently the right day.
The narrator reflects on a haunting idea that death is concealed within the body, presenting a surreal image of it existing like a hidden object. This notion suggests that each person has a unique relationship with death, which is intertwined with their existence, akin to a secret kept within physical boundaries. The metaphor of death as a coin or bullet hints at its sharpness and unpredictability, urging one to consider how intimately it is connected to life.
As the narrator contemplates the essence of life and mortality, they describe the waiting period for death as a warm ball of bath salts, representing both comfort and inevitability. Death is depicted as patiently folded within, ready to emerge on its predetermined day. This poignant imagery creates a sense of acceptance and anticipation, conveying the deep, complex emotions tied to the idea of knowing one's fate yet living in the present moment.
