[Narration only] [Single male narrator] [No vocals] [No singing] [No dialogue] [Deep intimate male spoken voice] [No singing] [Warm low baritone] [Slow, reflective] [Long natural pauses] I've searched for the name of this feeling. People call it grief. But grief always remembers what it has lost. This... remembers nothing. No face. No past. No goodbye. Then... what is grieving? Perhaps... not what was. But... what never became. Every becoming leaves a thousand possibilities behind. Not destroyed. Not forgotten. Simply... never lived. Perhaps... this is not the grief of loss. Perhaps... this has always been... The Grief of Becoming. [Music continues]
