pANDEMIC eCCENTRIC
I hope things never go back to how they were. That normal wasn’t normal. Lost to digitized history seemed to be leisure with gravity, interstitial tranquility. The accuracy of vacancy. Nilness.
I want to lose track of days and check the time only to be surprised at the lateness of the hour. Dusk looming, innocent as a satellite.
...that few things scar and clarify the soul more than witnessing the death of your parent. If anything screams “YOU, TOO, WILL DIE” it is that experience. How you die becomes a choice but only once you’ve chosen how you live.