March 10, 2017

The air was heavy. A grey smoke rose from the ground, its ascent seeming to intensify rather than disperse it.

“There is a temple in Kyoto, Japan,” said a male voice. “Constructed of wood. Over the years each of its beams, each plank in its flooring, each paper screen door has been meticulously replaced as part of necessary maintenance.  At what point did it cease to be the original temple?”

“Ridiculous,” answered the woman. “It has never ceased to be the temple. A temple is not mere matter.”


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