bit of show, even less tell


God, I love this time of year. Something about the clarity of the air in the mornings that feels like an annual reset, a call to action just in time before hibernation. Something about it never being too late.

I’ve not written for a while, not like this. Other, more pressing things have needed my full attention. More on that later. Maybe. This is getting worked out in real time, pilgrim!

For now, all you need to know is that I’ve spent the past couple of years - equal emphasis on spent and on past - running parallel to the way I used to live, and I’m better for it. This might just end up being me listening to the echo to figure out the shape of the cave. This might just end up being a neat, ready-made volume of essays.

This might just end up being.