Antecedent grief to a previous sorrow still informing the shape and sound of the current disaster, I have chapters. What is it like to die? I don't think about it. Flesh is squishy and wet. Is that what it's like inside mine? I don't think about it. What caused my brain to initialize? What happens after it terminates? I don't
think about it.
[Stephen sent me this song two weeks ago. It's still in my head sometimes.]
Sunday, September 24, 2017
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