Still here and breathing.
What does it mean to respire?
There is something to be said about the act of breathing in air, and breathing out something transformed.
Our being operates on this premise: to make something out of something.
Still here and writing every day.
I can’t help but write compulsively every day.
Nothing short of astounding to myself; it is a condition, I say to myself, when I am trying to ease my sense of helplessness.
Though, these words have a different home, one that cannot be addressed as of now.