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Fragments of the Eternal

Shabir
Prologue: The Smoke of Existence What is a man but a brief flicker of consciousness in a world that never promised meaning? We come into this world screaming, unaware of the weight we inherit. Love greets us, but so does pain. And in the corner of every joyous moment, death waits not as a villain, but as a quiet observer. This book is not a guide, nor a scripture. It is not a collection of answers, but a collection of wounds, stitched with words. Each chapter is a room inside a house that was built without a blueprint each room filled with shadows, questions, and at times, a small window where light dares to enter. Marcus Aurelius whispered reason in a world of chaos. Nietzsche roared for the individual to rise amidst collapse. Kafka wept quietly in the absurd corners of the mind. I stand among them, not as their equal, but as their echo. This book is my echo.
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