day 300

17 Dec 51

I hanged myself that night. After the initial struggle, my resistance ultimately futile, I finally could stare out into the night sky peacefully. My body temperature began to drop; with the cold breeze gently rocking my corpse. I could stare into the sky for eternity, knowing that no one would see me; at least, not tonight. In the distant backdrop, there were lanterns released into the night sky, merging with the blinking stars; I could not tell if the lights came from fire or from the distant galaxies. I searched, unsuccessfully, for my birth star. Instead, I saw a shooting star dropped from the dark canvas. A stroke of the sky has been removed, unable to even remain as a mark or a trace. Soon, the star would be forgotten. I will be forgotten. My body was limp and the swaying continued. Lifeless as I might look, there was a little vitality in a dead body. Like the gunpowder that exploded into the distant heavens, that vitality was the last before I gave up my body. I had enough of it. I wanted my soul to soar with the wind and over the mountains and to blow the rivers to their natural end. I could continue, as waves and there would be no end to my existence, only to hide in places unseen and unheard. How would you know I am there? By listening, by feeling. But it is eventually not the wind I want to be. I would give up my soul too. I would cease to exist and disseminate into the language of Genesis. I will be with the Word.

The body is language. The body is the Word. I return back to the Word.

I breathed my last.



This last page of his journal was found in a cottage hut in Pai, north Thailand. The owner of the journal was nowhere to be found. No body, no soul.