I’m staring at my wardrobe, unsure about today. We woke up to a headline, then the youtube clips, then the discussions, positionings and recollections stirred up by all of this. All of this pain that roils around us, out and into the small hours of our day. All of the anger and recrimination and hatred and dissonance. All of this.
We woke up, and the wave rushed over us, and we scattered into the first few steps of the day.
Whenever I think about the elements of this morning’s story, my mind recoils.
And so I continue with the things one does on a normal ordinary Tuesday, and end up sitting here, writing this.
But today doesn’t taste right. Today is aching from the poison of the morning, shivering it out like an addict in a corner. And if this is the case, then I can’t do anything but observe it, administer whatever palliative treatment I can, and hope for the best.