"I'm not angry at God. I'm angry at the universe for being so stupid."
"You're sad," he replied. "I was trying to figure out why."
Her hand fell.
She was a widow at twenty-four. A word that clung to her like a second shadow.
The child held out a small, folded paper. Kabir opened it with trembling hands.
But the world did not reward such tenderness.
"Hi," she said. "I had a dream about you. A lady with a sad smile said you'd come. She said to give you this."
The waves kept moving. The world did not stop. The letter was found in her bag, along with a pressed jasmine and a torn page from Rumi:
"Sanam, teri kasam—I kept my promise. I found my way back."
"Sanam, teri kasam—if death comes for one of us, let it find us together." The diagnosis came on a Thursday.
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James Makin Gallery recognises the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin Nation as the sovereign custodians of the land on which we operate. We pay our respects to their elders past, present and emerging.
