Tasting Existence

Then came the image of the last dot. My body, now nearly transparent, had become an outline—a thin white glow, barely holding its shape. And then the outline itself started thinning, breaking apart into a dotted trace, each fragment flickering in and out. It felt inevitable, this dissolution, but when only a few dots remained, I hesitated. A flicker of something arose—what happens when the last dot, of me, of ego; disappears? If everything vanishes, what remains?