I get tired and lie down in the middle of the day, some long raga playing softly as I close my eyes and breathe in and out, on the edge of sleep, letting the music guide me.

I imagine that I'm dying, as will happen one day, and there's no fear, no regret - other than the mess I'll leave behind - and mostly just a feeling of relief that it went OK, well enough, and I escaped the fate of being arrested or tortured or maimed or all the other ways I could've been unlucky, that I made it through unscathed.

I wake up, and begin to declutter.