It’s a constant re-reckoning: an existential dusting of hands, a hitching up of one’s pants.
But I have reason to believe moments of intense clarity and energy have a rhythm that can be experienced in the here and now.
The virus demands a deep imagining of death.
I remember wanting to surf and ski from the minute I became cognizant these activities existed.
We never knew for certain its origin, only what we could accumulate from quick glances at it as it darted about.
