I spoke with Bunny last night for the first time in
a year or so.

 It was weird.

 I had forgotten what a strange experience it is.

 There is something so beautiful about talking to
him, but more than that, it’s terrifying too.

 They say that an enlightened man is like a
mirror.

 I find the truth of that in Bunny.

 Hearing his laughter I became aware of the
depth of my own.

 Hearing his silence, I became aware of my noise.

 We realised that we both had a copy of a photographic journal of J. Krishnamurti on our shelves, so we flipped through the pages together, laughing about his double-comb-over and his facial similarities to a Martian. I so enjoyed this trivial playfulness.

 Bunny’s sense of responsibility is vast, deep and based entirely in love. His actions are profound in the sense that they are spontaneous and yet never careless. His joy comes bursting up like a volcano of hilarity, such that he cannot find breath.