I feel like things are disappearing. Like the present is persistent in erasing the past. I must say that I have barely left the house in the past year—after years and years of moves (Florida, Singapore) and activities—and that the day-to-day sameness becomes like screen burn in on a monitor or TV screen. It is hard to imagine anything ever having been different, that I at one point didn’t eat turkey sandwiches every day, or that I sat in an airport in Seoul on day, or drove myself to Cape Canaveral and saw alligators there. 

But I think one can stir again, even if it seems impossible.