yesterdays are like spilt milk or whipped cream, they can not be undone. all that i’ve been ferries me to this moment, where i can choose still where to go, who to be. the past matters, but it’s not everything.

thoughts that undrown me: all my neighbors sleeping in their beds, soaking in their tubs, eating, kissing, dreaming in their houses, on this very block, at this moment; people driving by in their cars, with anticipation, with dread, with distraction; the whole city turning on their lights, pouring cereal into their bowls, walking, dancing, sitting by their windows. all of us. how big we are; how small we are. going about our days in our singular fashion, surviving. trying to make something out of our lives. unknowingly. unknowably.

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