I want to say

She asks: Will we look back on this someday and laugh at the ratio of ramen to hard cider and beer? What things will make us smile in that faraway future?

The past is such a storehouse packed with clutter; and still we try to make more room.

Where is that thing I put away in there that I need now? If I knew for certain what it was, I could tell you.

And the present?

The present is an envelope out of which unexpected things fall: tears, planes exploding, people falling from the sky; and almost always, unrelenting rain afterwards, as parents gather the bodies of their children from the beach.

I want to say there could be more than this.

I want to say there could be a white handkerchief scented with lemon oil.

There could be honeycomb shards from the blasted beehives to drop into a glass of hot and bitter tea.

I want to say.


In response to Via Negativa: Arms Race.

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