Photographs remind us
Of all the life we’ve lived
And all the time
Which passed between
Of all the life we’ve lived
And all the time
Which passed between
Outside
The first layer
Burdens weigh me down
Attachments distract me
Encumbrances hold me back
It occurs to me… Sometimes
The best way to see ourselves
Is to hand our vision to someone else
And let them tell us what they see
But it made
A man
Of the boy
I will not count them: the prayer wheels, the meters, the pilgrims, the steps, the number of times I will feel the smooth patina of wood against my palm. I say to Emma: “I want to do this.” She assents.